Attaboys
by Keydazy
Summary: You don't need blood to be family - just heart, hard work and the occasional headache. One shots in my kid!Tim, kid!Tony 'verse.
1. Peanut Butter

**A/N**: I've been thinking about making a kidfic for this fandom and is this is what came to me.

This will hopefully become a series - it really all depends on how well the first 2 chapters are recieved. Consider this first chapter a ficlet for now. The full story should reveal itself as the series of one shots go on but just to give some background: This is AU. It features both kid!Tony and kid!Tim with papa!Gibbs. Tony and Tim are both Gibbs' kids but not by birth.

The one shots will jump around in time and all the characters will be involved. I apologize for the grammar in advance (this is un beta'd so the mistakes are all mine) but keep in mind that some of the mistakes are deliberate because I'm telling this from the POV of a 6 year old.

I don't own NCIS, Tony, Tim or Gibbs.

Tim is 6 years old.

Tony is 9 years old.

Gibbs is... older than that

Peanut Butter

mmmmmumumummmmmmm

Tim takes another bite of his sandwich and chews happily, wriggling in his seat with enthusiasm. Tony giggles before sticking a peanut butter covered hand on top of his head to keep him still.

"Slow down, Timmy."

Tim ducks away from the hand with a scowl but continues his sandwich dance.

His big brother makes the best peanut butter and jelly. Not even Daddy puts peanut butter _on top_ of the bread.

"It's good, huh?" Tony asks while taking a small bite of his own, "It's a Tony PB & J special."

"Wusso speshuh abott?" Tim asks around a mouthful of Jiff.

Mischief sparkles in his brother's eyes.

"What was that, Timmy?"

"Wusso speshuh? Wuss speshuh?"

"I can't understand you," Tony says really, really slowly.

Tim tries to swallow the mouthful of peanut butter but the sticky glob won't go down his throat.

"Tohnee, I nee' mu.k"

His brother's cheeks puff up like he wants to laugh but the sound won't come out.

"You need _what_? Tim, you have to swallow your food before you speak. Don't worry, I'll wait."

Tim watches with exasperated eyes as Tony pulls a bottle out of the fridge and two glasses.

"And while I'm waiting I'll enjoy a nice, cold, glass of milk."

Tim bangs indignant fists on the counter top as Tony pours himself a cup while leaving the jug just out of reach.

"Mukkk! Mukkk, Tohhee!"

"Aaahh," Tony sighs after taking a big gulp, "refreshing."

"Daddy," Tim tries to wail through his peanut butter block.

Like magic his dad walks into the kitchen just then. Tony quickly slides his cup across the table to Tim.

It takes a few sips before the sandwich glob slides its way down. _Finally. _

"You're mean!" Tim declares as soon as his mouth is free.

Daddy raises an eyebrow.

"I'm making lunch for me and Tim," Tony says with that smile. The same smile that Tony gave Daddy when they broke the toilet and said they didn't.

"I can see that," Dad says then ruffles Tony's hair. "Make me one?"

"Sure, Boss," Tony cheerfully agrees. Tim giggles.

"No PB on top, okay?"

"But Daddy, that's the best part, " Tim protests while licking the excess spread from his fingers

Dad hands him a napkin with a look that says, _Don't lick your fingers, Timothy, s_o Tim uses the napkin real good.

Daddy looks around the kitchen and Tim follows his eyes. There's peanut butter on the fridge and jelly in the sink and bread slices on the counter and even more peanut butter on the cabinets, Tony and Tim. Tim thinks it looks cool, like a peanut butter and jelly painting, but Daddy doesn't look that happy.

Tony passes Dad his sandwich and asks, "Can we please go to the park today?

Daddy looks like he might want to smack his brother on the back of the head so Tim perks up to watch.

"What did I tell you yesterday, Tony?" He asks with that voice that's kind of soft but still asking a question too.

"That-that we'd go to the park?" Tony looks like he knows Gibbs is gonna say no. Tim hopes not. Abby was supposed to be at the park today and Tony promised he'd show him how to pull her pigtails.

"And this morning?" Daddy's still looking at Tony like he already knows the answer.

"That we'd go to the park..." Tony says with eyes so wide he looks like a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Tim covers his mouth so he won't laugh.

"So?"

"We're going," Tony says like it isn't a question. He grins. Tim sighs in relief.

"Yu,p" Daddy nods and Tim can tell he's got that warm feeling in his stomach. Like when your spelling test gets put on the fridge with the big magnets.

"As soon as your room is clean," Daddy adds

"It's clean," Tony says quickly with that broken toilet smile.

Dad raises his eyebrow again.

Tony nods.

"Technically," Tim adds.

It looks like Daddy wants to laugh but he doesn't.

"You boys put everything away in it's proper place, technically?"

Tim nods too this time.

"Alright then. Let's stop talking technically and start thinking hypothetically," Dad says.

Tony frowns, "Hippo-wuh?"

Tim rolls his eyes. "_Hippothetnickal_, Tony."

"Hy-po- the-ti-cal," Gibbs corrects, "It's like an imaginary situation"

"Like pretend?" Tim asks.

"Exactly. Attaboy," Daddy praises, "But in this case it's a pretend situation that could very well come true."

Tim looks at his brother and his brother looks back at him.

"So," Dad takes a bite of his sandwich and leans forward on the counter, "hypothetically, if I were to go up to your room right now and check, I would find nothing stuffed in the closet or underneath the bed, right?"

Daddy gives them both that look. The same look that made Tony spill his guts about the broken toilet before Tim could even open his mouth.

Then Tony answers, "Correction. _Technically_ the room is clean but _hypothetically_ the closet still needs work."

Daddy smiles a little bit.

"Get to it. Sooner you finish, the sooner we can hit the basketball court."

"Okay, Boss!" Tony cheers and races up the steps. Tim giggles some more.

It's always funny when Tony calls Dad, 'Boss' or 'Gibbs'. Tony says it's cause he's gonna be one of Dad's special agents one day, but Tim doesn't think his brother likes the word 'daddy' very much. Gibbs says he can call him Boss, Gibbs or anything but 'Sir' but Tim likes 'Daddy' best. 'Sides, Tim doesn't remember his other daddy or his mommy much. It doesn't matter. Gibbs is the best dad ever anyways ... except when all he wants to do is play stupid basketball with mean ol' Tony.

Tim pouts. Just a little.

"C'mere, Tim."

Tim slides off his stool and trudges over to his dad. He tries his best to look mad but he doesn't quite make it when Daddy lifts him into the air.

"What's the matter?"

"I-I dunno" Tim laughs

"Then why you got your faced all scrunched up, huh? You don't like the park anymore?" Dad asks as he holds Tim upside down by the ankles.

His dad's a giant, Tim decides, as he climbs down the long legs.

"Don't like. Baske'ball," he gasps as he's flipped over.

His head is all spinny and the kitchen tilts this way and that before strong hands steady him.

"Tony likes it," Daddy says

"So? Tony's mea,n" Tim says, lookin' down cause he wants to stay mad.

"Tim," A big hand lifts his chin up and wipes the rest of the peanut butter off his face. "Remember when we went to Blockbuster, last weekend, and Tony let you pick the movie?"

Muppet Treasure Island, he remembers. Tony let him pick the sausage off his pizza too.

"Can we go on the swings? After basketball?" Tim tries.

"After basketball," Daddy says.

"Can we play HORSE?"

"If you and Tony agree."

"Okay," Tim relents. He knows Tony likes that game even though he says he doesn't.

"I'm gonna go watch TV while we wait."

Daddy gives him that look again. Tim gulps.

"I mean, I'm gonna go help Tony clean our room?"

Gibbs smirks and ruffles his hair.

"Good choice, peanut butter boy. Now scoo.t"

Tim moves towards the stairs when his Daddy's voice calls him back.

"Tim," he says as he holds up the hand that just left Tim's head, "How did you get peanut butter in your _hair_?"

**A/N**: This was meant to be a snapshot of their lives to help introduce the characters more than anything else. The rest of the one shots will have more of a story, I promise. Let me know how you feel about the characterizations. Are the voices off? Is Tony too mean? Gibbs too nice? Let me know.


	2. Superman

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews, alerts and favorites. You guys totally made my day. Like I stated in the previous chapter, this is a series of one shots in an AU that jump around in time. Tony and Tim won't always be this young or this old. Once again, keep in mind that some of the mistakes in punctuation, sentence structure etc. are deliberate because I'm telling this story from an 8 year old's POV (The rest of them, well, I apologize in advance).

I don't own NCIS, Superman or the song, '5 little monkeys'.

Attaboy 'verse

Tony:Age 8  
Tim: Age 5

Dedicated to Angel Puppy who gave me the idea for this one shot.

Tony's POV

Superman

_(Because younger siblings come up with the 'bright ideas' too)_

Tony tried to hold the comic book steady but the, _'bounce, bounce, bounce' _made all the words hop around the page.

"Five lit-tle mon-keys jumpin' on da bed!"

He turned on to his stomach and tried to flatten the book with his hands but even his fingers hopped in time with the steady beat.

"One fell off an' bumped his head!"

He couldn't ignore it anymore. "Tim! Go jump on your own bed," he snapped.

"Momma called the doctor-" Tim stopped mid rhyme and fell onto his bottom.

"Come on! Play with me," his little brother whined.

"We're not supposed to be jumpin' on the bed," Tony said, "'Sides, I'm trying to concentrate."

It was after dinner, but it was summer time so they didn't have to go to bed for a while yet. Tony wanted to finish his favorite Superman before lights out.

Hard little knees pressed into Tony's back as Tim looked over his shoulder.

"Wacha readin'?"

Tony rolled his eyes, " 'Mportant stuff, Squirt. Superman."

"_Superman?_ That's not 'portant," Timmy shook his head.

Man, his little brother could be real dumb sometimes.

Tony rolled himself over. Tim tumbled off his back and over the edge of the bed.

"Hey!"

"Is too," Tony stuck his tongue out.

"Is not, is not!" Tim stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes.

No fair. He taught Tim that trick.

Tony huffed and tried to go back to his reading but the, _'bounce, bounce, bounce'_ started up again, this time across the room.

"You better stop jumpin' before Boss sees you," he warned.

"Tony! Tony, come play!"

No. Nuh Uh, Tony thought. Then Boss will come upstairs and get mad at him for playin' on the furniture even though it was all Timmy the Terrible's fault. No way.

"Tony. Tony! Tohhh-neeee. To-ny, To-ny, To-ny-"

Tony threw down his comic book. "What?" he exclaimed.

"Let's play Super Heroes," Tim grinned.

Super Heroes? That sounded kinda cool but...

"How do you play?" he asked warily.

"Like this!" his little brother shouted, still bouncing. "I'll be Superman and you can be ... the 'credible Hulk!"

"How come you get to be Superman?" he asked, ditching his comic and standing on the bed.

" 'Cause Superman can fly and I can jump real high, see?"

Tim demonstrated with a super high leap and kick.

"But I can jump higher than you," Tony started to bounce.

"No, you can't"

"Yes, I can!"

"Nuh Uh"

"Yes, huh"

Tony really started to jump this time. Felt the drop in his stomach as his socked feet left the mattress and he reached for the ceiling. Felt the rush of air as he went, higher, higher, higher.

"BOYS?" came a voice from downstairs.

Both boys froze in mid air, falling onto their stomachs with heavy plops.

"You two horsing around up there?"

"No!" Tony and Tim answered at the same time. Tony held his breath and waited.

"See?" he crowed when he was sure the coast was clear.

"So?" Tim said.

Tony frowned. That's what Tim always said whenever Tony did something better than him. So, so, so.

"So," Tony stuttered, "So, I'm taller."

"So?"

"An' I'm faster," he added.

"So?"

"And- An' I can jump from my bed to your bed."

He pointed at the distance. It looked kind of far and there were lots of toys and stuff in between but Tony could make it. He was sure.

"So there," he taunted.

Tim shook his head, "Nuh Uh,Tony. No, you can't. It's too far".

"Not for Superman. Watch."

He took a deep breath. He bounced once, twice, then leapt.

A rush of air, a lift in his stomach, a flailing of limbs, a moment of panic, and a very bouncy landing onto the other mattress. Yes!

"Yes!" he shouted. "Told ya'! I'm Superman! I'm Superman!" he sing-songed.

"No fair!" Timmy cried.

He got up to do it again. One bounce, two bounce, Leap! Yeah! Too cool!

**Bounce**, _Leap_, Thump! **Bounce**, _Leap_, Thump!

Back and forth he flew while Timmy Too-Small watched.

He was a bird!

A Plane!

No, he was Super- _whoa!_

Tony felt himself start to drop just short of his landing, colliding painfully with the side of the bed. And he might have landed on his feet, had there not been a Tonka Truck directly beneath him. His foot slid on the toy and he fell to the ground with a loud thump, but not before twisting his ankle.

Oh, ow. Ow. Owowowowoww. It hurt, it hurt, oh man, it hurt.

Tony sniffled.

He wasn't gonna cry. He wasn't gonna. Timmy would cry 'cause Timmy was still a kindergarten baby. But Tony was eight. Almost in the third grade. Tony never cried. Except when his knee hurt bad and his ankle hurt worse.

One tear didn't count as crying. He would cry one tear and that's it. Alright, two tears...

"Tony! Are you okay?" Timmy shouted and tried to nurse his brother but Tony scooted backwards. He didn't want Timmy hugging all over him.

"What happened?" his boss asked from the doorway.

"Daddy, the bed broked Tony!" Tim cried, pointing.

"You okay, Bud?"

Boss crouched in front of him but Tony backed away.

No, he wasn't okay. He was a lot worse than okay but he couldn't tell the bossman 'cause then he'd know he was jumpin' when he wasn't supposed to be jumpin' and he'd get mad. And then he might not get a... he really didn't want his boss to get mad at him, not right then, 'cause his knee hurt and his ankle really, really, hurt and he wanted, but he couldn't ask, but what he really wanted was -

Strong arms lifted him up and wrapped themselves around him. Tony gratefully rested his forehead on the well worn fabric of Bossman's shirt. _This._

"You're alright. I got ya', Kiddo," A soft voice said quietly while Tony had it out.

"Took a tumble, huh?" Boss said once the tears stopped. Tony felt a large, warm hand on top of his head. He nodded before nestling further into the crook of the big man's neck.

"What hurts, Tony?"

Tony remembered a time before he lived here with the boss, when he was hurtin' real bad but there weren't any hugs to go with it. 'Cause everyone at the old house was mad and yellin' all the time.

He shook his head and clutched his boss tighter. He felt the big man's chest rise and fall with a sigh.

"Let's go to the kitchen so you can get cleaned up, okay?"

He stayed cradled in the safe arms as the bossman carried him downstairs, could see Tim following behind them with wide eyes and a wobbling bottom lip. Tony gave him a smile 'cause he didn't want Tim to get too scared and start bawlin'.

Boss put him on the counter and brought out the first aid kit.

"What hurts?" Gibbs asked again, like Tony really oughta tell him.

"My knee and my ankle," he whimpered.

He hissed as the Boss swabbed alcohol on his scraped knee.

"So what happened?" Boss asked casually while applying a Scooby-Doo band aid.

Tony's stomach clenched and he looked down at the counter top but didn't speak.

"The bed broked him, Daddy," Tony heard his brother answer helpfully.

Boss didn't sound mad but Tony still didn't want to look up."Really? How'd that happen?"

"We were playing Super Heroes," Tim answered cheerfully.

"Super Heroes? That sounds like fun. How do you play that, Tim?"

"Um, well..." Timmy trailed off nervously and Tony decided to save him.

"I was jumpin' and-" Tony mumbled.

"What was that, Bud?" Gibbs titled his chin up so Tony could look him in the eye.

"I was," Tony swallowed, eyes flicking from Boss to the counter to Boss again, "I was pretendin' to be Superman, and was flyin'-"

"Jumping," his Boss corrected.

"Jumpin', " Tony echoed guiltily, "From from my bed to Tim's ... an' I fell."

He couldn't look at the bossman anymore.

"I was jumpin' too, Boss," his dumb little brother added.

Tony rolled his eyes. Why couldn't Tim just keep his mouth shut? Now they were both in trouble.

"Hmm," was all Boss said.

"Can you wiggle your toes, kiddo?"

Still avoiding his Gibbs' eyes, Tony wiggled them.

"Attaboy. Can you move your foot around?"

Tony tried. "That hurts," he whined.

"Yeah, it's going to swell up pretty big,"Boss said.

It was already kinda red and puffy.

"Let's have a talk, guys."

Tony stomach fluttered and his mouth said the first thing it could think of.

"Timmy made me!"

"No, I didn't!" Tim protested, "Daddy, I didn't!"

Tony looked at his boss out of the corner of his eye. He did look mad but not as mad as Tony thought he'd look. He was still glaring though.

"Boys, what's rule number seven?" Boss asked sternly

"Outside games are for outdoors only ... only," Tim finished reciting a moment after him.

"But you can't jump on the bed outside," his little brother pointed out.

Tony wanted to smack him.

"No, you can't," Boss allowed, "But that's what the trampoline is for. You don't rough house inside because it's really easy for someone to get hurt."

"_Oh_ _yeah,_" Tim said, like he just figuring that out.

"Oh yea,h" Gibbs mocked lightly.

Tony snuck another peak at the older man. The boss wasn't all that mad at Tim, Tony decided. He'd seen that same look on the Boss' face when Tony was doing something funny and Gibbs didn't want him to know it.

"We forgot," Tim said innocently.

Boss lifted Tim onto counter next to Tony then got real close. "Well you'd better not forget again, Got me?"

Tim nodded quickly. "Yes, Daddy. I Gotcha."

Tony heard the fridge door open before something cold and soothing was placed on his ankle. An Icepack. He looked up to see Gibbs holding a popsicle out to him. Cherry. His favorite. Tim was already inhaling his own treat.

Boss was still staring at him with that, _'I don't like what you just did, Anthony D. Gibbs'_, look and Tony felt like dirt. But he also felt like it might be okay.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Boss stared at him some more.

"Really, really sorry?" he tried with a small smile. Boss didn't smirk back.

"You're lucky it was only a twisted ankle," Boss scolded.

"I know," Tony sighed even though he was kind of happy on the inside.

That's one thing Tony liked about his Boss. He got mad, sometimes he scolded, glared a whole lot and got all grumpy , but he didn't yell much at all (at least, not at Tony and Tim). Even when Tony did something stupid and babyish like falling off a bed.

His brother frowned while slurping down the last of his Popsicle. "Dad, is Tony gonna be broken forever?"

"Nah, Tony'll be just fine. Ducky will patch him up, but he's going to have to stay off that ankle for the next couple of days," the big man said.

"Will he have to get a shot?" Timmy the Traitor asked excitedly.

Bossman smirked, "I don't think so, Tim."

Tony bit the end off his Popsicle thoughtfully before taking his life in his hands.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked in a small voice.

Boss raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm not gonna see my comics for a while," Tony mumbled.

"Try the rest of the week. I think you need a break from Superman. And Tim? You're having an early bedtime tonight, so go get ready," Boss ordered.

"But I gotta watch Uncle Ducky fix Tony," Tim complained.

"No. You have to get into your pajamas and think about remembering the rules."

"No," his little brother whined like he didn't see this coming.

The bossman lifted him off the counter and back onto the floor. "Right now."

Tim stomped off. "I hate that stupid bed! And I hate Tonka Trucks! I'm never playing with them again!"

"... Dad?" Tony started almost in a whisper. He had to see if it was still okay to call him that. If he wanted.

"Mhm," Boss said as he put the first aid kit away. Tony sighed in relief.

"I'm still really sorry," He tried again.

Boss looked at him.

Then Tony thought.

"And I won't ever, ever do it again," he smiled. He really, really meant it.

"Okay," Boss smirked back and smacked him on the head. Ouch!

Those comforting arms wrapped around him again and Tony snuggled in, tucked his head underneath the bossman's chin.

"Sometimes, I think you're just itching to spend the rest of your summer on bed rest," the big man murmured into his hair, "You have got to be careful from now on, Bud."

"I promise, Boss," he promised, rubbing the spot on his head that didn't sting much at all.

"Good."

Boss carried Tony to the living room couch where he put a pillow under his ankle so it wouldn't hurt so much. When he finished his Popsicle, the bossman gave him some Tylenol and a glass of apple juice.

While he sipped, he could hear his boss making a phone call in the background.

"Hey Duck, I need a favor. Would you mind coming over for an emergency check up? Yeah, it's Tony. Who else?"


	3. Sitter

A/N: I swear I was going to make the next chapter in Gibbs' POV but it just didn't go that way. Plus, I thought it might be fun to introduce a 'new' character. This one is fairly short because, frankly, I never planned on writing it but there will be another longer chapter up soon. This is an AU that jumps around in time. Tony and Tim won't always be this young or this old. I apologize for all the speling/grammar mistakes in advance.

Attaboy 'verse

Tony: Age 11

Tim: Age 8

Sitter

Her brother's car pulled away and she waved one more time before turning to the familiar house. She wasn't really in the mood for babysitting, but the concert was expensive and her weekly allowance wasn't going to cut it. If she wanted to get good seats she had to start saving up some major cash _now_. Her parents wouldn't let her get a _real_ job (_"You need to focus on school, not stuffing food into paper bags at some fast food joint," _her dad said), but after weeks of arguing of and reminding them that both Kevin and Sam had jobs during High School they did make a compromise. It was a pretty good gig. Looking after ankle biters wasn't her ideal work situation but she'd take it. This family in particular. The dad was pretty scary but she got jobs often and the man paid well.

Having learned by now not to bother with knocking, she opened the door and walked straight into the kitchen. She didn't get far before a voice made her jump.

"You're late."

She turned around, embarrassed at the fact that he managed to sneak up on her. Again.

"I know, I'm sorry. I had to wait for my brother. Apparently Donkey Kong is more important than giving his sister a ride," she said, shrugging off her jacket and throwing it over one of the kitchen chairs.

A grunt was his only response and she wondered not for the first time where exactly the man learned his social skills. Trying hard not to fidget under his gaze, she scanned her brain for a start to polite conversation.

"So..." She started awkwardly only to have him turn abruptly and start walking into the living room. She quickly followed behind.

"- Dinner's in the oven," he directed, " boys are upstairs and the emergency numbers are on the fridge. No leaving the house, no going into the basement or the attic. Make sure they do their homework -all of it. Don't let them sit infront of the TV all night. Have them bathed, teeth brushed and in bed by 9:00. I should be back by 11:30 at the latest. Got all that?"

She forced herself not to roll her eyes as Agent Gibbs recited his rules. They never changed and she knew them so well by now she could say them in her sleep.

"Actually, I was planning on taking the boys to the roof for a bungie jumping lesson but if you're set on routine..." she trailed off as the man's stare intensified.

"I'm _kidding, _Agent Gibbs_," _she said, looking at him expectantly_. _

If anything the cold blue eyes got colder.

"Right. 11:30. Got it," she sighed.

"Boys!" he called, "I'm heading out!"

There was a loud rumbling as two sets of feet pounded down the stairs. The younger of the two went to give his dad a hug goodbye but the older one fell back to greet her with a lazy wave and an obnoxious smile.

"Hey, Katie," he drawled.

Kate bit back a grin. "Hi, Tony," she said.

"Hi, Kate!" Tim chirped, coming over to give her a hug. She would never say it outloud but Tim was her favorite and by far the easiest kid she'd ever babysat. He was quiet, polite and helpful. Too bad he didn't rub off on his brother.

"You're leaving already?" the older child whined at his dad. For as long as she'd babysat for the Gibbs' she'd never seen the boys let their dad leave easily.

"Don't want to be late," Mr. Gibbs said, resting a hand on top of his eldest's head.

"Dad has a date," Tim informed her, "With a _girl._"

His dad snorted, "That's usually how it works, Son."

Kate opened her mouth to comment but thought better of it.

"Are you takin' her to dinner, Bossman?" Tony asked slyly.

"Yu.p"

"An' a movie?" Tony added with a knowing smile.

Gibbs smirked as he slipped on his coat, "Maybe."

"Then you'll suck face, right?" Tim cut in, looking at his father for affirmation.

Gibbs blinked in surprise but instead of answering Tim, he glowered at his eldest.

The boy shook his head frantically. "What? Boss, I did NOT tell him to say that, I swear."

"Dad," Tim continued plaintively, "You didn' answer my question. Are you gonna suck face or what?"

Kate shook her head at Tony. "He didn't hear that from you, "she started sarcastically, "Now why do I find that hard to believe?"

The boy looked at her with mock hurt and nausiating puppy dog eyes. "You wound me, Kate."

"Only you would call it 'sucking face'," she snipped.

"Not true," Tony answered simply, " I heard it on television."

"DAD," Tim insisted, pulling on the man's shirt sleeve, "Are you? Are you gonna suck her face?"

"Hey!"

Gibbs' shout broke through the noise and all three of them fell silent. Kate blushed with the realization that she'd been having an argument with an eleven year old, and in front of his father no less.

"Anthony." Kate watched as the oldest Gibbs boy immediately straightened up.

"And Timothy," Gibbs continued, "While I'm gone you're to do everything Kate tells you to when she tells you to do it. No arguments. We clear?"

"Clear, Dad" Tim nodded. Tony cocked his head to one side.

"_Everything?_ So if she tells me to repaint your bedroom walls with ketchup I should -Ow!" Tony rubbed his head, unfazed, "I'll make the prettiest painting in all of Washington D.C., Sir!"

Kate snorted. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Gibbs trying to smother a smile. Tony watched both their reactions and beamed. _The little weasel_.

There were three hugs goodbye, a head rub and two promises to call before Agent Gibbs finally decided to make his exit.

"Okay, guys. I'll see you later," he said, walking towards the front door before either boy could protest.

"Dad, when will you be back?" Tim asked.

"After bedtime."

"Wake me up when you come home?" Tony pleaded.

"Just to say goodnight," Gibbs answered,"I have to go now. You two are going to make me late."

"Are you picking her up?"

"Can we come with you next time?"

"Does she know how fast you drive?"

"Will you bring us something back?"

Gibbs pocketed his keys. "Good night."

"Wait, Boss!" Tony grabbed his arm before he walked out the door, "While you're gone can I-"

"No."

"I only-"

"No."

"You didn't even-"

"Let. It. Go. Tony." He turned once more and locked eyes with her. "Don't let 'em eat you alive, Kate."

And like that he was gone.

There were a few moments of sad silence before Tim latched onto her.

"Katie, I'm hungry," he announced sweetly.

"Dad bought Pizza!" Tony sang, " And coke. Tim, bet I can beat you in a soda burping contest."

"Good luck. I c'n burp the Pledge of Allegiance," Tim answered smugly.

Kate scrunched her face up in disgust. Why did boys seem to think that was some sort of accomplishment?

"That's so gross," she told them.

"You're just mad 'cause girls can't burp 's good as guys," Tony taunted

Kate shook her head in frustration. In all her 16 years of life she'd never met a boy more infuriating than one Tony DiNozzo Gibbs.

"Girls can burp every bit as good as guys. Unlike you I actually have table manners, but if I wanted to, I could beat you at your burping contest," She replied confidently.

Both boys broke out into a fit of hysterical laughter that riled Kate even more.

"You're on!" Tony shouted.

"C'mon, Kate! " Tim squealed, taking her hand and dragging her in the direction of the kitchen.

Kate sighed. It was going to be one of those nights.


	4. Project

A/N: Thanks again for all the support. For those of you who posted 'anonymously', sorry I couldn't respond to you directly but I really appreciate your reviews :). This is an AU that jumps around in time. Tim and Tony won't always be this young or this old. I'd like to take the time and say that Gibbs' canon is not the same here as it is on the show. He wasn't married to Shannon. There isn't a Kelly. Like I said before, all (or most ) of the characters will make an appearence but not in the way you would expect. Just keep that in mind. This is unbeta'd so all the mistakes are my. Sorry.

In case it becomes confusing when you read, the dialouge in italics is Gibbs having a flashback.

I don't own NCIS or it's characters. I also apologize to all the Sarah Elizabeths who are reading.

Gibbs' POV

Attaboy 'verse

Tim:Age 8

Tony: Age 11

Project

"D'ya know what sucks, Dad?"

Gibbs blinked in surprise at his son's choice of words but not wanting to discourage the conversation, decided to humor him.

"What sucks, Tim?" he asked as he put a steading hand over his eight year old's, helping to keep the Coping Saw straight.

"Being left handed," the boy answered seriously.

It took some strength on Gibbs' part not to laugh at his son's solemn expression.

"You always have to sit at edge of the table so you don' bump anybody," Tim griped as another piece of scrap wood fell to the basement floor with a clatter, "There're never any left handed scissors AND whenever we write with pens in school the ink gets all over my hand."

"That sounds like it does suck," Gibbs considered while he adjusted the clamps holding their project in place.

The little man leaned back into his father's chest.

"I wish we could just do science an' math all day 'stead of language arts. Those subjects are easy," Tim stated with a bit of pride.

"Yeah, for you." Gibbs shoved him playfully.

Tim smiled, rubbing sawdust from his hair before frowning again in thought.

Gibbs watched as his son became increasingly distraught but didn't say anything. Let the steady arm around Tim's shoulder and the comforting back and forth motion of the saw speak for him as the kid worked up the courage to say what he needed to say.

"If," the boy started quietly a few minutes later, "an' if I wasn't a leftie we'd be finished a lot sooner, huh?" Tim glanced at him before dropping embarrassed eyes to the basement floor.

Gibbs frowned.

Their differences in dexterity did make it harder to pull off the proper cuts. He either had to stand on the wrong side of Tim without being able to see the pattern or try to guide the saw with his left hand. Neither position was particularly comfortable. Even so, the extra work was worth it.

Over the past two years, he'd seen Tim really start to come into his own with the help of Cub Scouts. That's not to say all Tim's insecurities were gone, but he was making friends, gaining confidence and trying new things. It was also giving them a chance to bond over common interests. So when his son came home last Thursday with a block of wood and orders to turn it into a derby racer Gibbs had to admit he'd been a little excited. Camping trips, nature walks and lessons about tying the proper knot were all well and good, but he looked foward to another woodworking project with his son.

He'd taken Saturday off, skipped the housework and sent Tony over to a friend's house. It would take some work, but this was definitely a design they could do. It was important to Tim and he wanted his son to see that it was important to him too.

Gibbs carefully removed the saw from the boy's grip before setting it down and turning the kid around to face him.

"You have somewhere to be, Kiddo?" he teased lightly.

"Well, no... but your arm will get tired waitin' around for me to finish. You shoud do it. It'll come out better anyways," Tim blushed, scratching a ratty sneaker against the back of his calf.

Gibbs sighed internally. Eight years old and his son was already a worry wort. A few more years and he'd be sporting grey hair.

"Freddy Rinnert said he and his dad were going to make fastest car alive. He won first place last year, 'member? All I got was a good sportsmanship medal," he mumbled.

Gibbs remembered that night. How Tim didn't come in first or even third but shook the hands of the winners after each and every game without prompting.

"Last time I checked good sportsmanship was pretty damn important," he said.

Tim blushed again, this time from the praise. "I guess, but I'd still really like to have a winning car this time."

"If I built it it wouldn't be your car," Gibbs reminded him, " And I don't care how long it takes, Tim, or what place it comes in. As long as it's your best work."

Tim contemplated this before turning back to the model and smiling sheepishly, "I guess I think I can do it. It does look pretty cool so far," he admitted.

"It'll look even better once it's finished" Gibbs agreed, handing Tim the necessary tool and nodding encouragingly toward their half formed racer.

They continued their work in comfortable silence, their efforts slowly taking shape. Then Gibbs thought of something.

"Your father was left handed" he stated, while they worked on a particularly stubborn curve.

The kid tilted his head upwards, pressing further into Gibbs' chest as he looked up at him with surprised green eyes.

"He was?"

"Uh huh." It was something he'd forgotten but Tim's story brought back memories of teasing the man about his own ink stained hands. "Jeff used to pitch at the NCIS - FBI charity games. Adjust your grip, Tim, like this. That's, right."

He paused to correct the boy's stance, giving the small shoulder a squeeze, "He was a southpaw."

"Was he any good?" his son asked.

The eight year old turned his attention back to the racer but his ears were wide open, ready to soak in every last detail.

"He was, although he wouldn't stop complaining about the sun being in his eyes," Gibbs smiled at the memory. "Used to get ink all over his hands too. Said that's why he preferred computers."

"Me too!" Tim chirped. " 'Cept," he frowned, "I bet Jeff was better at buildin' stuff than I am."

* * *

" I don't see why I have to help you with this," Jeffery McGee sighed.

_"It's for _your _wife!" Gibbs defended _

_"Yeah, but it's_ your_ gift. And I couldn't build something to save my life." Jeff picked up one the smaller pieces curiously before setting it back down again, "How long does it take to make one of these things anyway?" _

_Gibbs frowned, "You want it done fast or you want it done right?"_

_"I want it done within the next millenium, Jethro." It was that tone of voice that never failed to get Gibbs moving and bug the crap out of him all at once._

_"I'm on it, Jeff. Maybe if you got off your lazy ass and helped it would get finished sooner," he responded without heat._

_The man shook his head, "I'm not touching it. I can't do anything with those right handed tools and Rachel will kill me if I mess this up. " _

_Gibbs snorted, "Is 'wussing out' something they teach you in the Navy, McGee?"_

_The man held up a warning finger even as he took the offered jar of burbon, "Watch it, Probie. This Navy man can still kick your ass."_

_"Aw, don't you start that 'Probie' crap too. I hear enough of it from Mike. You'd think after two years-"_

_"Once a probie, always a probie, Probie" The senior field agent laughed as he took a pull of his drink "What do you think my first team lead still calls me?"_

_"Forget the help. You can leave. Now." Gibbs grunted with a glare in his partner's direction._

_Jeff gave a small shudder. "Watch it, Gibbs. You could kill a man with that look. Besides, you can't kick me out. Then I'd have to go home."_

_"Here. Sand" Gibbs said, throwing him a piece of sandpaper. "Even you can't mess that up."_

_The senior agent made half hearted swipes at one of the smaller pieces while grumbling,"She asks me what I think of the paint job and I say, 'Whatever you think is best, Honey, but I think we should go for more neutral colors.' Next thing you know I'm locked out the house."_

_"With the grain." Gibbs directed. "You don't have a key?" _

_"Did you really think I was going to go back in there? "_

_Gibbs snorted."See, your problem is that you don't know women."_

_"Yeah, says the unmarried man." _

_"What you should have said was 'I love it, Honey' and kept your trap shut."_

_"She wanted forest green, Gibbs!" Jeff said incredulously_

_"Could have been green, turquoise, pink, yellow or any other color of the damn rainbow. Your answer is the same."_

_"Technically turquoise isn't a color of the rainbow, or pink for that matter. They're a ligh-"_

_"Missing the point, McGee."_

_"Yeah, well, it's too late now. So I get to enjoy your fine company for the next few hours," he said with a sardonic grin._

_"Hey, you invited yourself over here." Jeff had a habit of stepping in to check on his 'favorite' junior agent unannounced._

_"Your door was unlocked." _

_Gibbs pretended to look affronted. "You gonna help me with this or what? Wait, never mind. Don't touch anything."_

_"I'm sanding." Jeff pointed at the rail he was squatted next to unconvincingly._

_Gibbs focused on smoothing the edges of the last leg, "So neutral colors, huh? Guess I'm not carving baseballs into this thing?"_

_"Rachel's sure it's going to be a boy but I don't know..."_

_"You think it's going to be a girl?"_

_"I was kind of hoping..."_

_"Huh.__"_

_Jeff's eyes narrowed. "Something wrong with that, Probie?" he challenged_

_Gibbs swallowed his smile and tried to look serious for his friend, "No, Jeff. Not at all."_

* * *

"He thought I was gonna be a _girl_?" his son asked with all the offence an eight year old boy could muster.

"Yep. Wanted to call you Sarah Elizabeth"

"Bleck!" Tim made a face, "What a dopey name. Did you finish the crib on time?"

"Not before your father broke two legs and one of the rails trying to 'help'." He handed his son a soda before settling on the steps beside him.

Tim laughed. "My dad was still a good agent, even though he broke stuff and was left handed... right?"

"Right."

"Wish I coulda seen it. The crib, I mean." Tim sighed. Gibbs found himself without the words to make that little hole in his son's heart ache less.

"You have seen it," he said instead, "You know that dusty old thing we keep in the attic?"

"That's mine?" Tim said in awe, "You built _that_ for _me_?"

"Well, I don't think you would have appreciated having to sleep on the floor," Gibbs joked.

"That's so cool!" His son exclaimed. "You can build just 'bout anything, can't you."

Gibbs studied his son closely before answering, "Do you know how many times I had to practice before I could make something like that, Tim?"

Tim shrugged, "I dunno. A lot?"

"Years and years. Sometimes learning how to do new things takes practice."

"Like learning how to tie a slip knot? Or pitch a tent?" Tim offered.

"Exactly." Gibbs went to the work table and picked up their just finished car frame, finally cut and sanded to a smooth texture.

It wasn't the design Gibbs initially pictured but it was solid, well thought out and very much a Tim Gibbs original.

"This is good work, Son," he praised.

" You think so? 'Cause they said we should pro'bly build a wedge shaped car," Tim rushed to explain, "That's easiest. But I already did that last year and it's kind of borin' to try the same thing over again so I thought-"

"-Tim," Gibbs cut off gently, "I said, it looked good."

"Yeah" he nodded then added with a smile that was just a tad smug, "I bet Freddy and his dad didn't use hand tools like we did."

Gibbs scoffed,"Slackers."

Tim giggled.

"I just wanna win one race this time." Gibbs watched the kid who looked every bit of Jeffery McGee frown with anxiety and an overwhelming need to prove himself.

"Hey Tim," he advised the boy, "We still have to add the wheels and weight, not to mention paint this thing. If you're going to worry about something, worry about that."

"Okay" Tim decided before giving his dad a sly look, " But still, you think it's gotta good chance of winning, doncha Dad?"

Gibbs couldn't help himself. He laughed and ruffled the boy's hair enthusiatically. "As determined as you are, I wouldn't be surprised if you came home with a trophy. You think about a name yet?"

" Well I thought of one name... while we were workin'..."

"Well?"

"'S stupid," his boy mumbled.

"Tim," he insisted.

"I was thinkin'... The Southpaw?"

**A/N:**Okay. I'm incredibly nervous about this chapter. Gibbs' pov, the Jeffery McGee character, the plausibility of Tim's back story, the flow. Let me know what you think, please. Oh, and everything I know about the scouts, derby racing and woodworking I got from brief research online so I apologize if I got anything wrong. The stuff about being left handed, well that's from personal experience :).

ONE MORE THING: Whoever call tell me which episode of NCIS I got the name 'Freddy Rinnert' from can have a story with the prompt of their choosing. If they like.


	5. Visit

**A/N:** To everyone who reviewed: Yes, Freddy Rinnert is the man who 'helped' Abby with the computer evidence in the episode Ex Files. Good job, guys! Due to popular request there will be one shots about how exactly Gibbs adopted Tony and Tim very soon but you'll have to be a little patient. I promise there will be more back story revealed in the upcoming chapters. Anyways, in case you're a new reader or are really forgetful, this is an AU that jumps around in time. Tim and Tony won't always be this old or this young. Please excuse the spelling and grammar. This is unbeta'd so the mistakes are all mine. Just please keep in mind that some of the mistakes are intentonal because a good portion of the dialouge is from a 6/3 year old.

Attaboys

Tony: Age 5 (almost 6)

Tim: Age 3 (just turned 3)

I don't own: NCIS, Transformers, Sesame Street, Batman underwear, a rubber duck or a stuffed animal penguin :(

Visit

Splash! Splosh!

Doctor Mallard watched as water gushed unceremoniously from the large tub to his tile floor. It wouldn't surprise him if by the end of this bed time routine his upstairs bathroom became wet enough to serve as his own miniature aquarium. He had asked Jethro that the boys be bathed and in their pajamas _before_ they came for their visit but apparently Gibbs had forgotten.

Soaking wet washcloths were draped over edge of the tub, adding to the puddles. T-shirts, socks, pants, sneakers and two pairs of batman underwear were scattered over the floor. The over -sized pink towels his mother insisted on buying were stacked neatly on the counter near the sink. Beside that, a stuffed animal was placed carefully out of harms way. It had been quite the battle convincing Anthony that while most penguins could swim, this particular bird would not do well in the water.

Plunk! Slosh! Splish!

"Rubber Ducky, you're the one. You make baftime lotsa fun. Rubber Ducky, I'm Awf'lly fond of you. Boop Boop dee Doo," Tony sang as the orange and yellow creature bobbed happily beside their boats, plastic frogs and a few transformers.

"Ducky, ducky, ducky. Doo, Doo. Doo," Tim tried to sing along.

Although the three year old could be difficult when it came to washing, Tim was much more cooperative when taking a bath with his brother. Fortunately for Ducky, Tony didn't seem to mind sharing a tub with the younger lad. It was fairly certain that over the course of the year the five year old would become more modest and opt to have bath time alone but for now it was fine to let the boys be boys.

Hysterical laughter and a shower of water broke him out of his thoughts. Tony had started another rousing chorus of his favorite bathtime song with slightly different words.

"Uncle Ducky," the boy giggled, "you're the one. You make baftime lotsa fun. Uncle Ducky, I'm Awf'lly fond of you!" he finished song with a celebratory splash, smiling up at the older man cheekily. The duck bopped merrily in agreement.

Ducky chuckled, "Very nice, Anthony. Thank you."

"Issa _yelloh d_uckie," Tim stated proudly, not wanting to be left out.

"Clever lad," Ducky praised, " And do you know what sound a duck makes, Timothy?"

"Ducky say'd, Quack, quack, quack, quack!" the newly turned three year old shouted, reaching haphazardly for the plastic animal.

Tony helpfully handed his brother the bath toy before he could fall over. " 'Cept this one, right Timmy? It says, squeak, squeak, squeak! "

"Skeek Skeek!" Tim echoed.

Splash! Back into the tub went the rubber duck.

Little Anthony had adapted to having a younger sibling rather quickly. Unfortunately, Ducky thought sadly, assimilating quickly into new family structures was probably just another one of the many 'habits' Tony had picked up in his first few years of life. It was heartbreaking to think that the boy didn't have anyone to depend on until Jethro. Still, there was a protectiveness and willingness to teach in Anthony that made Ducky quite proud. For Tim's part, the young lad became attached to the older boy almost immediately, much faster than he had to Jethro or himself. Although Athony wasn't particularly... gentle, Timothy toddled after him with a determination to keep up and be included. After 8 months they were adequetly adjusted into the role of brotherly companions.

"Hey! That's mine!"

Or so he thought.

"NO! Don' touch! My fog, Tony!" the toddler cried, trying his best to keep the bath toy out of his older brother's reach.

"Is not! Mine's the red one. Yours's the green frog," Tony shouted, trying to tug it out of Tim's little hands.

"No! No g'een fog. _My whed fog_!"

Tim held on for dear life but Tony, being three years his senior, wasn't having much trouble prying the plastic amphibian from his brother's grip. Face red with rage, Timothy sunk sharp baby teeth into Tony's hand. Tony let go of the beloved frog with a howl.

" OW! You dummy!" Tony raised a little fist with every intention of bopping his younger brother on the head.

Ducky intervened before it could go any further, "Anthony, don't you dare. "

The five year old stopped immediately, wincing at the use of his full name. "Timmy bited me!" he whined, pointing an accusatory finger at his 'attacker'.

"Timothy, we don't bite. That's very naughty. You could hurt your brother," Ducky scolded severely, "Give me the frog."

The 3 year old clutched the toy to his chest and shook his head. "No!"

"Give me the toy right now, young man. You didn't share nicely so now the frog is being put away."

"NO!" Tim shouted

"Do you need a time out also, Timothy?" he warned

"Noo," the boy wailed.

"I'm counting to three," Duck said, " 1..."

Eyes wide, Tim quickly placed the 'fog' in his uncle's outstretched palm before he could even reach the number 2.

Tony smiled smugly and held his hand out for the toy only to be shot down by Ducky's disapproving look.

"No fair," he pouted.

Ducky stood up from the edge of the tub, his patience stretched paper thin,"Bath time is over, gentlemen."

Judging by their temperament his two nephews were tired, cranky and in dire need of a good night's sleep. Heaven knows Ducky needed it.

"Everybody out," the older man ordered.

"Nooooooo," came a wail from the two.

"5 more minutes, please? We're still playin'," Anthony pleaded.

"Ah'like pay'in," Timothy added, nodding his head convincingly.

Ducky sighed.  
"5 minutes and not a second more," he relented, "and no frogs."

"Yes!" Tony cheered.

"Yes!" Tim echoed.

For all his lectures to Gibbs on consistency and proper discipline he really was, what most parental figures would call, a big softie. Especially where Anthony and Timothy were concerned.

The splashing and roughhousing started anew, previous bathtime injustices forgotten.

"You two remind me of me and my cousin David when we were young lads," Ducky told them, "In fact, Tony, you look quite a bit like Cousin David. Well, the hair color isn't exactly the same of course but your eyes-"

"-Uncle Ducky," Anthony interrupted, poking a wet finger into his side.

"Yes, Anthony?"

"How come you can talk so much?" the boy asked with a curious expression.

Ducky laughed at the innocent question, "Well, practice, I suppose."

Tony thought to himself momentarily before responding.

"Oh. That's how come you tell good bedtime stories?"

Ducky knew wheedling when he heard it, no matter how subtle. Realizing that this could be used to his advantage, he smiled.

"Would you like to hear a story about the time Cousin David and I tried to build our own sailboat?"

Anthony nodded readily, "Let's go to bed right now," and started to climb out.

"Me too," Timothy said, quickly following behind.

"Uncle Ducky," Anthony started again hesitantly, "When's the boss comin' ta pick us up?"

The five year old's eyes flashed with concern, before ducking his head into one of Mother's fluffy towels.

"Gibbs-" Ducky started to say.

"Gib?... Daddy?" Timmy looked around worriedly, suddenly realizing the man was missing. "My Gib..." the 3 year old sniffled and his eyes filled with tears.

"Don't cry, Timmy," Tony pulled the three year old to him, "Gibbs'll come back soon... right?"

Hopeful eyes looked at him for confirmation over Timothy's head .

Whenever the team needed to work late (or in Jethro's case, over night,) the boys slept over at Ducky's. Although they had done so on a number of occasions, it still took some time to reassure both boys that their visit _was _just a visit. A fear of abandonment was not easy to overcome. Even after living with Jethro for over almost two years, it still was constant effort on their part to convince Tony that he was staying with 'his boss' permanently and unconditionally. He wasn't sure if Timothy subconsciously picked up on Anthony's fear or if it was memories of his own birth father's departure that gave him such anxiety but Ducky sought to comfort them both just the same.

"Jethro will be back at 9:30 tomorrow morning, boys, I promise," he said gently.

"9:30 AM?" Tony asked suspiciously.

"9:30 AM on the dot," Ducky agreed. Not matter how stressed, ragged or tired, Jethro would make sure he was there on time.

Tony pulled a rocket ship pajama top over Tim's head. "An' then we have pancakes," he said with confidence.

Ducky rolled his eyes fondly. "You will get your pancakes, Anthony. Don't you worry."

Ducky knew boys Timothy's age couldn't really grasp the concept of time but seeing Tony relaxed was enough reassurance to Tim that all was well.

" Ah'like pancapes, huh Tony?" Tim asked as Ducky quickly ran a comb through his hair.

" 'Course you do, Squirt," Tony smiled.

"kay," Tim nodded.

Ducky sighed with relief as another crisis was averted.

Teeth brushed and pajama clad, the boys were being ushered out of room by Uncle Ducky's gentle hand, when Tony turned around abruptly. At first Ducky thought he was going back for that damn frog.

"Gus! He can't go to sleep in the bafroom," the boy cried, pulling the stuffed penguin off the counter top, "He wants to hear 'bout the sailboat too."

He held the toy up for his uncle's consideration. Ducky bent down so he was eye level with the toy.

"Yes, of course, Gus," he smiled at the stuffed animal, "Anything for my favorite penguin. "

"Issa _my brodder's_ Gus," Timothy interjected firmly.

"You're so right, Timothy, and what a lovely penguin he is." He turned back to the stuffed animal, "Gus, you look rather sleepy. Would you like to lie down in the comfy bed next to Tony and Tim while I share the rest of my story ?"

Tony hugged the plushy to his chest. "He said yes"

"Alright then," Ducky said, taking each child's hand in his and leading them out the door, "Well, our plan, actually it was David's idea mostly, was to build the boat entirely out of cardbord and masking tape, which turned out to be a very poor decision indeed..."

**A/N:** This chapter's quesiton is, 'Why is Tony's penguin named Gus?' Feel free to hit me with prompts. Just know that the Tony/Tim (and Gus) origin stories are coming. :)


	6. Finders

A/N: Hello, everybody. Just want to thank everyone again for reading and reviewing. A special shout out to Siltrana, Loopy4Tibbs, Ikles08 and Sarah for answering Chapter 5's question correctly. Gus is the undercover name Tony used in episode **Split Decision. **It is also the nickname of Michael's son August. Congrats, guys! Also, I received some prompts which I really look forward to writing. Thank you for giving me such great ideas. In case you are new to this story or have really bad recall, this is an AU that jumps around in time. Tony and Tim won't always be this young or this old. This is unbeta'd so please forgive me for the spelling and grammar.

I don't own NCIS.

I've decided this is going to be a two parter. It's already pretty long :) Just a warning, I'm am not a case fic writer. I will do my best and I promise the case part won't be the main focus, but stick with me here. Also, if Gibbs seems OOC to you try to remember that Ducky said he was a lot like Tony when he was first working at NCIS, so I kind of tried to make a mixture of old (younger) Gibbs and the one we know. Also keep in mind that he's a probie at NCIS (or NIS) in this chapter so he's still pretty green.

Attaboys

Tony: Age: about 18 months

Gibbs POV

Finders

"In position, Boss," Gibbs whispered. He stood just to the side of the motel window. "Lights are on"

"All clear, McGee?" Mike's voice cracked over the headset.

"Nothing coming from my side, Boss"

"Jethro?"

"Clear" Gibbs answered.

"Alright. On my signal..."

Gibbs crouched beside the door and waited, years of sniper training keeping him calm and patient. It all started with a dead Staff Sargent, Thomas Grimm, and ended in a small but complicated web of gun running that left even the ATF spinning in circles. Inter-agency cooperation be damned, Franks was taking this one all the way up the the top and wasn't stopping until he caught the bastard responsible for the whole mess. After two weeks of 20 hour days and vending machine dinners they'd managed to track the illegal transactions down to one Anthony DiNozzo. A con man accused of everything from fraud and identity theft, to the fuzzy details surrounding the 'accidental death' of one Ms. DiNozzo. DiNozzo managed to get acquitted of every charge. That was before he got mixed up with illegal arms dealing and NCIS.

He wasn't sure if their MCRT was just that good or if Mr. DiNozzo was simply getting careless but they'd managed to track him down to a cheap motel just outside of Baltimore, Maryland. Apparently Staff Sargent Grimm, an Armorer at the Ordinance Maintenance Center at Quantico, had been one of DiNozzo's main suppliers but for one reason or another had stopped coming through with the goods. If he wasn't working for them anymore, there was a chance he'd try turn himself in. That didn't sit well with DiNozzo, it certainly didn't sit well for DiNozzo's clients who were looking for the weapons and the cash, and so it ended terribly for Grimm. Though he'd been an NIS agent for over a year now, it still troubled Gibbs to see how far people would go to protect their 'businesses'.

"... Now!"

He kicked the back door with as much force as he could and reveled in the crack and splintering of the wood before it gave away.

"Federal Agents!" Three voices shouted from different directions.

The room was thick with an odor that did not smell like a decomposing body, but was foul nonetheless. Food wrappers littered the stained motel floor. The television blarred in the background. They checked the area but DiNozzo was nowhere in sight.

It didn't surprise Gibbs that the greasy bastard had managed to take off again, but still, something wasn't right. There was something important they were missing.

Gut churning, he checked behind the chipped motel door.

"McGee, check with the other guests. See if any one of them saw DiNozzo slipping out," Mike barked.

"On it, Boss," McGee answered

Gibbs checked under the bed. Then in the closet again.

Mike narrowed his eyes at him as he moved about the room. "Jethro! I swear, If you don't quit fooling around-"

Gibbs ignored the threat as he walked caustiously into the open bathroom door. A dull orange glow from the vanity mirror was the only source of light. Once again, no DiNozzo, but something in the pit of his stomach told him to keep looking. He yanked back the shower curtain.

Gibbs stared at him. He stared at back at Gibbs, looking just as perplexed. Then he started wailing. Gibbs resisted the urge to cover his ears at the loud screeching.

Was he okay? Gibbs thought frantically. Should he pick him up or could he walk by himself? He remembered something about holding their heads up, but this one seemed to have that covered on his own. Should he-?

"-Probie, what the hell ?"

His boss ran into the room, looking confused and pissed off in equal parts.

"Mike" Gibbs said over the wailing of the scared, green eyed baby sitting in the bathtub " I think we might have a problem"

* * *

"Probie!" was about all the warning he got before the toddler was thrust at him.

"Boss?" he asked as he held the stiff child in his equally stiff arms. Deciding that neither of them was liking this particular position he placed the eighteen month old on his desk. The child looked around, babbling quietly to himself.

"You're on baby watch, Gibbs."

After processing the scene and interviewing witnesses they'd traveled back to NIS to regroup. A quick check up from Ducky revealed that while the child was quite shaken up, he showed no signs physical abuse, malnourishment or illness. You could have fooled Gibbs, the way the kid was wailing on the ride home.

"Social Services on their way, Boss?"

"We've got Anthony DiNozzo's only son, Probie. Odds are his father will be coming back for him."

Not much of a father if he leaves his kid alone in the first place, Gibbs thought testily.

"And even if that wasn't the case" Mike continued " We've got a lot of pissed off people DiNozzo owes money to, looking for collateral or revenge. The kid is under NIS protection until we get DiNozzo in custody."

"With me." Gibbs stated dryly, not hiding his opinion of the idea. The baby sighed.

"Well, yeah, Jethro, that's kind of what I meant by Baby Watch."

"C'mon, Boss. Don't you think this job would be better suited for McGee... or a Labrador Retriever?"

The headslap was expected but it didn't sting any less.

"Thought I told you to check that smartass attitude at the door," Mike growled.

"Yes, Boss" He said ruefully, repressing the urge to rub the sting out.

"I need McGee out in the field. This type of protection detail is Probie's work, unless you're saying you can't handle it, Gunny?" the older man challenged

Gibbs straightened up. If it was one thing the Marine hated, it was his work ethic being questioned. "I'm on it, Mike" he replied seriously

Gibbs heard a grumble from Mike that sounded a lot like, 'you'd better be' before the man stalked out of the bullpen. Gibbs glared at the kid.

Anthony DiNozzo Jr., the son and only child of Anthony DiNozzo Sr. The little boy that was mentioned briefly during their initial investigation but forgotten just as quickly. The reason he got to _two _head-slaps today.

_*SMACK* Never take anything for granted, Probie. That includes personal information about a suspect. _

Gibbs was an only child himself. The only child of two only children to be exact. He didn't know squat about taking care of kids. Okay, he knew the basics, but this was stilll uncharted territory and he wasn't exactly a patient man or the 'baby type'.

Gibbs thoughts broke to the sound of a baby chewing happily on the end of his newly finished requisition forms.

"mmm" the kid hummed, crushing the paper as he tried to stuff the whole thing in his mouth, fist and all.

" Hey! Gimme that" Gibbs said, prying the soggy report from the infant's equally moist hands.

"Nooo," the child whimpered in protest, arm extended and little hands clutching for his 'treat'.

"Alright, alright.'" Gibbs soothed, " Relax. I'm sure there's something else here you can play with."

He searched through his drawers looking for anything remotely 'baby', finally settling on an empty stapler. It was kind of shiny and made clicking noises. Kids liked that kind of stuff, right?

"Look at this. You like this?" Gibbs pressed down on the stapler a couple of times before handing it to Anthony Jr. The boy copied him curiously but then pushed the 'toy' away.

"Nonono"

The kid looked at him beseechingly. Then Gibbs noticed the boy had one his hands resting on his stomach. _Oh. _

"Hungry?" Gibbs asked

"No," Junior said, eyes shining brightly at finally being understood.

The boy reached for the form again but Gibbs quickly held it out of his reach. Anthony Jr. frowned at him stubbornly. Gibbs stared back, surprised but impressed at the kid's gumption.

Then the baby smiled, and it took about all Gibbs' self control not to smirk back.

Ok, the kid needed food. He could do that.

* * *

Gibbs refused to laugh as he watched the little guy pick his food apart.

"Say, pepperoni," Gibbs prompted.

"No," Tony said with a full mouth.

"Say... sausage."

The baby took the topping from him, mouth first, his small teeth barely missing Gibbs' fingers.

"No," the little boy smiled.

"Say, extra cheese"

"No!"

"You're feeding him pizza?" Jeff McGee asked incredulously as he made his way through the bull pen, arms full of bags.

"Kid's gotta eat," Gibbs shrugged.

Anthony tried to lap up the string of hot cheese dangling from his mouth but was having some difficulty. Gibbs and Jeff watched for a few moments with disgusted fascination before going back to their conversation.

"Yeah, but pizza?" McGee asked him again.

"Didn't realize Gerber delivered," Gibbs replied sarcastically.

McGee rolled his eyes, dropping a few of the bags on the floor near Gibbs' desk. "Here. I brought you some baby junk. A car seat, diapers, you know."

"Any toys?"

"Some blocks and this... squeaky thing" McGee murmured as he looked through the supplies.

"Thanks," Gibbs nodded.

"No problem, Probie," Jeff smiled, "Can't have you bringing the kid back broken."

Gibbs tensed up but quickly covered it with a fierce glare.

McGee rolled his eyes. " Hey, Anthony. Hey, Buddy," Gibbs' partner cooed at the kid, reaching down to pick him up.

Junior pulled away from him, looking terribly offended.

"Give the kid some personal space, Jeff," Gibbs ordered gruffly.

"No" Anthony said, clearly in agreement.

McGee laughed but backed up, "Okay, Papa Gibbs."

The baby smiled at him. Gibbs scowled.

"Get any witness statements?" he questioned

"Nothing we can use. Did you put out a BOLO?" the SFA asked.

"Yep" Gibbs answered.

"And?"

"Nothing yet."

McGee shook his head, "This guy is good."

Gibbs glared at him. His partner stared back, unfazed.

"You know what I mean, Jethro. This guy is con artist and damn good one at that. He'll stop at nothing to get us off his track," McGee said.

"Including ditching his own son in hotel bathroom," Gibbs growled.

Mike nodded in agreement. "Never said he wasn't a slimy bastard."

"No," the baby mumbled around the pizza crust he was sucking on.

Before the conversation could go any further, Mike stomped down the steps and past the bullpen not even giving them a backwards glance.

"Probie, man the phones, keep watching the kid. McGee, you're with me. We got a new lead," the lead agent barked.

"On it, Boss," Gibbs responded quickly as his partners headed out the door.

A small, sticky hand offered up what was left of his pizza slice: slobbery bread with the sauce licked off.

Gibbs frowned at the baby's idea of sharing. "No thanks, kid. You finish it."

Tony tilted his head, considering, then unenthusiastically dropped the slice back on his plate.

"Guess the means you're full," Gibbs said.

The baby laid down on his back, little round belly peeking out from underneath his t-shirt. Gibbs got the urge to tickle him but quickly abolished that idea, knowing the kid prefered limited contact.

Alright. The little guy was fed but they still had while before quitting time. "Now what?" he asked aloud, "Blocks?".

Gibbs took a few alphabet blocks out of one of McGee's bags and placed them in front of the child. Anthony Jr. inspected one closely, smiled brightly, then threw it as hard as he could at one of the filing cabinets. The block bounced of the metal with _clonk _and tumbled a bit on the carpet before coming to a full stop. Junior laughed hysterically and quickly reached out for another. Gibbs caught his hand.

"I don't think so, kid," he said, gently pulling the wooden toy out of he baby's grip. Anthony pouted.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that."

The baby stared at him.

Gibbs pulled out the other toy. It looked like a giant yellow lugie with a red nose.

"You don't want to play with this, do you?" he asked warily.

Junior took the toy from him and squeezed it experimentally. It let out a loud squawking sound, admittedly making even Gibbs jump. They boy stared scrunched his face up at him.

"Ok, so that's a no for both of us" Gibbs sighed.

"No," the baby agreed.

"So what do you want to do now?" Gibbs asked again.

Bored greens eyes looked up at him then around the bullpen. "Nononononononononono," the little boy mumbled and Gibbs swore the kid practically shrugged.

* * *

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah... Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," the baby squealed

Finally the spinny chair slowed down to a stop and the boy in the seat wobbled dizzily.

"Want to go again?" Gibbs asked lightly.

"No!" Tony shouted, bouncing excitedly.

"Ok, Hold on". Gibbs grabbed each chair arm and and gave it a spin. The seat twirled and Gibbs laughed at the expression on Junior's face as the chair whirled around and around. As it slowed to stop Anthony made to stand up, but hadn't yet gained his balance. The boy gave a surprised yelp as he tripped over the edge of the seat. Moving quickly, Gibbs caught Junior's arms and the baby was able to make a reasonably soft landing. Forgetting about the kid's uneasiness with hugging, Gibbs immediately picked him up. Maybe this wasn't the best game to play.

Junior allowed the contact for a few moments but then started to squirm, quickly growing tired with the cuddle fest. Gibbs set the baby on the floor and he immediately toddled over to the spinning arm chair. Grasping onto one of it's legs and bopping up and down happily.

"You want _another _round, Junior ?" Gibbs asked surprised, "Didn't you have enough fun almost breaking your neck the last time?"

Anthony blinked at Gibbs. "No," he said simply.

Gibbs almost felt stupid for even asking the question.

Just spending a few hours with Anthony was enough for Gibbs to know that the boy was very smart. He understood a lot more than he let on. Plus, first meeting aside, he was a pretty tough kid. He didn't need or like being coddled and fussed over like other babies he'd seen. He was trouble, not difficult, but the kind of kid who kept you on your toes. Sr. was an idiot, leaving a kid like that alone. If that was his kid, he'd-

What the hell was he talking about? He didn't even l_ike_ kids. Well, okay. He didn't mind them, and this one was less annoying than most, but he wasn't baby material. Maybe when he was a few years older with a wife who knew what she was doing. Maybe.

"Alright," Gibbs sighed, putting those thoughts aside, "if we're doing this again we're doing it my way".

He picked Anthony up, noting how the child immediately started to stiffen and sat down in the seat. The kid pushed himself to edge of Gibbs' knees but he put a protective arm around Anthony's midsection.

"Sit back, Bud," he warned and he pulled the little guy to him. Jethro checked to see they were the only ones in the immediate area before pushing off. The baby squirmed at first but settled down quickly as they began to turn. The chair wasn't going nearly as fast as when it was carrying only Junior's weight but the baby was still squealing, now wriggling in excitement as he pressed his head against Gibbs' chest. They spun around again and again, ignoring the feelings of dizziness, only stopping long enough for Gibbs to push off and restart their ride.

They were in the middle of their 20th or 21st spin when two hands pulled their chair to an immediate stop. Gibbs squirmed on the inside at the amused glare of his Boss.

"Probie, D'ya think this is what I meant when I said protection detail?" Mike asked.

"The baby, he wanted to, " Gibbs started, then noticed that the child in question was asleep in his lap "... No hits on the vehicle or the BOLO, Boss," he finished quickly.

"Don't worry about that, Gibbs. Got a anonymous tip. Found DiNozzo creeping around some hole in the wall just outside of Gaithersburg. Metro is holding him until we can get there tomorrow. You and the kid get some shut eye, Probie. Be back here tomorrow at 0700 sharp without-"

"-the smartass attitude. Sure, Mike" Gibbs finished for him. Mike slapped him "lightly" on the side of the head.

Gibbs got up, shifting the kid in his arms as he got his stuff together.

"Here's hoping you sleep through the night, Junior," he murmured as they made their way to the elevator. The kid shifted slightly but otherwise didn't stir.

* * *

Gibbs and Junior arrived at the bullpen the next morning at 0820. Gibbs didn't believe in bad luck, but was starting to think he'd jinxed himself when he hoped aloud for an easy night with the kid. He didn't even want to think about what it took to get them both ready this morning. He carried Tony in one arm and the pants the baby had managed to wriggle out of in the other.

"You're late," Jeff greeted him casually.

"I know that," Gibbs answered tightly.

His partner took in his ragged appearance and the pantsless kid and grinned at him. "Rough morning?"

Gibbs ignored him, instead locking away his weapon and sitting Tony in his chair. "Where's Mike?"

"Metro's bringing in DiNozzo soon. Mike's preparing for interrogation, you were late so he's got Balboa working observation. I'm contacting Social Services."

Gibbs would admit if only to himself that that was probably a good thing. He didn't think he could watch that sleeze and bad excuse for a father talk without walking into the middle of Mike's interrogation and shooting Mr. DiNozzo in the face, and the thought of calling Social Services made him uneasy.

"Watch the kid," he said, plunking the baby on the Senior Agent's desk, " I got to hit the head." Maybe then he could go about straightening his tie and washing that ... stain out of his shirt.

He didn't even make it out of the bullpen before the kid started to whine.

"No no!" Junior called out tearfully, arms extended towards him. Childish green eyes screamed _'Don't leave me!'_

"C'mon, Junior. Papa Gibbs will be right back," McGee tried to soothe.

Anthony twisted away from him. "NO!" he shouted

" 'Think the kid wants you, Jethro," McGee shrugged helplessly.

Gibbs gave an exasperated sigh even as he picked the boy up.

"Haven't you had enough of me already?" he grumbled goodnaturedly.

Anthony tensed momentarily before relaxing in the man's arms.

"No!" he baby said with a stubborn frown, "No, no, no, no, no, no!"

"Ok, ok! I get it." Gibbs responded, snagging a diaper on the way out of the bullpen.

It wasn't until Gibbs emerged from the bathroom with Tony for the third time in the same hour, that he got a good look at DiNozzo Sr. A man with a fine tailored suit, styled brown hair and charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes crossed paths with them as McGee and Balboa escorted him to interrogation. McGee gave him a warning look and Gibbs wisely kept his mouth shut, though he was fuming on the inside. The man's smile never faltered even when he laid eyes on the son he willingly left behind two days ago.

"Hey, Junior" he greeted his son warmly as if he'd only gone out the grocery store, his cuffs jingling softly as he turned to look at the boy.

Little Anthony shifted in Gibbs' arms and stared at the man warily. It was then that Gibbs realized that the baby hadn't asked, cried or looked for his Daddy in all the time the boy had been with him.

Sr. frowned. "Don't look at your old man like that, Junior." he laughed " Say hi to daddy"

Anthony Junior looked for a moment longer before giving a small smile. "Dah-dee," the little boy said.

Gibbs reluctantly put the squirming child down and watched as the kid toddled over to his father, hands reaching out to grab onto him.

"No, no, Junior. Daddy's busy" Sr. chastised as he took a step back from the boy, "Don't touch. This a new suit, I don't know where your hands have been"

Little Anthony didn't listen latching onto his dad's pant leg and looking up at the man innocently.

"Junior, I said No" Sr. raised his voice, moving away once more, "Your hands are dirty. Don't touch. No!"

The three agents stood dumbfounded. The little boy's smile dropped immediately and he blinked at the man before backing away unsteadily. Gibbs tried to pick him up but the boy shied away murmuring 'nonono' to himself quietly. Gibbs didn't think he'd ever seen rejection on a face that young before.

His blood boiled, his fist tightened and his jaw clenched but before he could open his mouth McGee and Balboa had ushered Mr. DiNozzo along. Little Anthony watched his father disappear down the hallway but did not follow.

Gibbs, still fuming, looked down at the kid. Anthony took in his facial expression and backed away again.

Gibbs forced himself to calm down, " Anthony... Junior, it's alright. I'm not mad at you. It's just..."

Seeing that the kid wasn't going to come to him, Gibbs scooped him up..

"Settle down, bud" he rested a gentle hand on the kid's back as the boy slowly began to relax, "You can put your sticky hands wherever you want. I don't care."

The little boy turned in his arms, still looking down the hallway.

" And anyone who's lucky enough to have you as a son won't care either. C'mon" Gibbs murmured, carrying him back to the bullpen.

Although Gibbs wasn't trying to think much about coming arrival of Social Services, he still getting a nagging feeling in his gut, like that day at the hotel. His instincts had always served him well, but he wasn't sure if it there was truly something wrong or if this 'case' was starting to get too personal for him. He really didn't want to think about either option. Instead he tried to get himself caught up backed up paper work and made latex glove balloons for Tony.

* * *

Gibbs slowly let the air out of the glove. Tony giggled and clapped his hands.

"Want to try?" Gibbs held the pinched balloon out to the child.

"No!" Tony said enthusiastically. Gibbs passed it to him and Tony squeezed the glove as hard as he could. The air came out in a woosh blowing Tony's hair back. The boy giggled uncontrollably.

"Gibbs," Mike called, "Social Services is here for the boy"

Gibbs gut stirred relentlessly as lifted the kid into his arms. "Let's go, bud."

"Jethro, this is D'Arcy McKinna," Mike introduced " She's Anthony's case worker. this is Special Agent Gibbs"

"Ma'am" Gibbs greeted politely. The little boy tucked his face into Gibbs' neck.

"We couldn't get a confession out of DiNozzo but with the evidence we got he could be looking at 15 years minimum." Franks said.

"I think Mr. DiNozzo understands he's not getting out of this one. He also relinquished all custody of his son. Anthony DiNozzo Jr. is now a ward of the state of Maryland" McKinna added.

Gibbs frowned. He thought Mr. DiNozzo would, he was even glad about it, but that wouldn't make it any easier for Tony.

"How long will it take to find him a home?" he asked.

" Fortunately, children this young usually find homes fairly easily. There are also a few known relatives outside the country that might be interested in taking Anthony. It might be a trickier than a domestic adoption but it can be done," Ms. McKinna answered.

"Until then?" Gibbs asked

"Anthony will be in a Children's home until we can place him with a suitable foster family."

Gibbs tried to ignore the burning in his stomach. He didn't have the space or the money for a kid, he chastised himself. It could become a legal nightmare what with DiNozzo's pending trial and their team having lead the investigation. He wasn't even a registered foster parent. No, Anthony's relatives would take him, or he'd find a better suited family. Just because he got attached to the kid, didn't mean he was meant to have him.

"Okay, Anthony. Time to go, sweetie," Ms. McKinna said softly.

The social worker held out her arms for the boy. The kid, sensing the tension in the room, clutched Gibbs tighter while shaking his head.

"No."

"Come on, bud." Gibbs said coaxingly but the baby held on tighter, looking up at him pleadingly. Those green eyes screamed at him again, _'Don't leave me!'_

Gibbs ignored it.

" It'll be fine, kiddo," he said, pulling the panicked child away from him and into the arms of the social worker, "It's alright, bud"

"You're okay, sweetheart. Alright, there's a big boy," McKinna soothed, trying to bounce the crying boy up and down

"Nooooooooo," kid wailed, tears streaming down his face, squirming frantically in her arms and reaching out for Gibbs. " No! Nooooooooooooooooooooo!"

"Go to your desk, Probie" Mike ordered, "She's not going to be able to leave with you standing there"

He hesitated, not feeling this lost since he himself was a small boy. Ignoring the aching guilt and taking one last glanced at the green eyed child, he turned back his desk, doing his best to ignore the tearful pleas.

Gibbs refused to look up at the wails got louder and louder still before finally quieting down. The pleading cries turned into defeated whimpers.

"No... nononnononono".

He didn't look up again until they were gone.

Jeff stopped at his desk to tell him he 'did the right thing', Mike squeezed his shoulder in understanding, but the sick stirring in his gut only intensified. He wasn't leaving a man behind, Gibbs assured himself. The kid was going to go to a new family that would give him a better life than his father ever did. Than he ever could.

A couple years later Gibbs was the Senior Agent on Mike's team and had learned to always, _always_ trust his gut first. Too bad it was a couple of years too late.

* * *

A/N: Like I said before, this is a two parter. If you're confused, you won't be for too long. Again, sorry about the case part of it all. Hope it wasn't too off the wall for you. This weeks question is, "Where in NCIS does the name D'Arcy McKinna come from?". This one is kind of tricky. Hint: her job is kind of similar to the one she has in this story. Next chapter coming soon :)


	7. Winter

A/N: This one is longer than I expected. Actually, I started out writing about one thing and it ended being another story entirely. Hope you like it anyways. This is an AU that jumps around in time. Tony and Tim won't always be this young or this hold. Grammar and spelling is all mine (this is unbeta'd). Some of the grammar and spelling is deliberate becase I'm telling point of view of a 7 year old and with child-like dialogue. Anyone looking for part two of chapter 'Finders', this is not it. These one shots jump around in time so expect to see that chapter a little later. Not too much later, just not right now.

Attaboys

Tim: Age 7

Tony: Age 10

I don't own NCIS or the season.

Tim's POV

Winter

Tim could barely contain his excitement. With a steady finger he wrote the letters S N O W on the foggy bedroom window.

"Tim, c'mon!" his brother's voice called excitedly from downstairs.

Tim ran through the hallway and down the steps, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. The smell of hot breakfast had him making a quick turn into the kitchen.

"Hurry up and eat so we can go," his brother encouraged, already drowning his own breakfast in maple syrup.

"Snow's not going anywhere, Son," Dad responded from his spot near the griddle.

"I know," Tony swallowed the food in his mouth, "but I want to get in the most playing time possible."

Dad slid a steaming plate over to Tim. He smiled. His dad's pancakes were the best!

"Wouldn't be the first snow of the year without 'em." Dad ruffled his hair.

They were his favorite but try as he might, Tim was just too excited to eat. All he wanted was the sweet taste of freshly caught snowflakes on his tongue.

He stared out the kitchen window and hoped it would start to snow again soon.

"You excited, Tim?" Dad asked, tapping Tim's plate with the silent direction to eat.

"Yup," Tim nodded as he picked halfheatedly at his breakfast. Then he thought of something he learned in school last week that made him even more excited.

"Did'ja know that no two snowflakes are alike, Dad?" He asked unexpectedly, " They each have their own unique design. An' did'ja know-"

"Can you put your big brain on hold, Timmy Textbook," Tony teased from across the table, " It's Saturday for cryin' out loud!"

" 'Least I have a brain," he shot back, irritated at being both teased and interrupted.

Tony gave a fake gasp, making Tim even angrier. "Oooh. Good one."

"Hey," their dad said, making Tim and his brother fall silent, "If either one of you were using his brain you'd be upstairs right now getting ready instead of arguing."

Tim and his brother exchanged a look before quickly washing their dishes and racing up the stairs to change.

Underwear, sweat pants, pants, short sleeved shirt, long sleeved shirt, sweater, hooded jacket, first pair of socks, second pair of socks, boots, gloves, warm red hat.

Tim piled on layer after layer. Anything to avoid having to wear those dorky snow suits.

In his view from the front door, the earth was blanketed in a prefect white. Not a footprint, mark or a patch of grass to be seen anywhere. Nothing was untouched and everything looked untouched.

Tim couldn't wait to ruin it.

Unfortunately, a hand caught his shoulder before he could follow Tony out the door.

"Not so fast, Guys," Dad said.

They spent the first moments in the very first snow of the year helping Dad clear the driveway and shovel the walk.

Tim begged and protested and told Dad he'd rather build a snow fort but the man wouldn't budge until they put 20 minutes of work in.

Work that became more and more like torture with every shout of, _Hey, Guys! Come help with our snowman! _or _Tony! Tim! Snow ball fight, Steve Adler's yard! _from a neighbor kid.

Finally, (FINALLY_)_ they were let go with reassurances that Dad would finish the job.

They were free!

Not allowed past Miller Street or on the main roads but free nonetheless.

First, they had to give their own yard some attention. Tim happily breathed in the chilly air as he stomped foot prints, made snow angles and wrestled Tony into the white powder for a while. Then he followed his brother up the street, dragging their large sled behind them.

He cheerfully gave 'hi's and byes' to close neighbors as they worked through a group of cul de sacs linked together by one slow moving side road. They only problem was the unshoveled sidewalk.

Tim tried to use his big brother like a plow, letting him lead the way then carefully placing his smaller boot into the bigger kid's foot prints. It worked for the most part, but every once in a while Tim would slip up and sink deep into the cold snow which wasn't much fun after the first time.

By the time they reached their destination Tim was wet from the knees down.

He rang the doorbell while Tony held the sled. The bell made no noise but there was the tell tale sign of flickering lights so Tim waited.

A tall, dark haired woman with a kind smile answered the door.

/_Tony and Tim. How are you?/ _She signed, hands moving slowly so that the boys could keep up.

_/I'm fine, Ms. Gloria. Can Abby come out and play?/ _Tim signed carefully like his dad had taught him.

/_Yes_/ Ms. Gloria answered /_She's in the back/. _The woman pointed around the side of the house.

_/Thank you/ _Tim and Tony smiled as they ran around the back, slipping and sliding on the icy patches of the Scuito's walk way.

"Abby?" Tim shouted looking around the large backyard, "Abby!"

Splat! A snowball hit him square in the back of the head.

"Gotcha!" The girl cried, giggling madly.

Before he could scoop up enough snow to retaliate another snowball hit him in the arm, this time from Tony.

"Me and Abbs 'gainst Timmy!", Tony yelled, launching another at him.

"No! Every man for hisself! Every man for hisself!" Tim tried to protest but was soon buried under their tag team attack.

Using a small bush for cover, he got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards the back fence. Finding the loose boards, he quickly slipped through to the next familiar yard.

"Cassie!" he called once he spotted the girl who was in the middle of making a snow angel. Cassie was another one of their friends. She had the cubby next to his in the first grade.

"Wanna be on my snowball fight team?" he asked breathlessly

"Okay." She agreed easily, "Mommy! Goin' ta Abby's!" She yelled at her house before slipping under the fence with him.

Tony, seeing that Tim was back with reinforcements quickly shouted, "Boys 'gainst Girls!" and the fight started anew.

Snow balls were thrown left and right, most of them missing but some of them hitting right on their mark. They were ice cold and wet- dripping down the neck of his shirt, down the side of his face and Tim would smile before throwing one back at the perpetrator.

This was the only time where it was okay to hit a girl.

Jumping

Ducking

Hiding

Tackling

Throwing

A shower of white when Tony decided to climb up Abby's oak tree and shake the branches.

It ended with the four of them lying in a sweaty heap, a determined Abby sitting on Tony's back and dumping snow over his head.

"Alright, Abby!" Tony finally cried, "Alright! Uncle!"

Abby stood triumphantly, pigtails still swinging from underneath her fluffy black hat.

"Woohooo! Abby Scuito holds the snowball championship title two years runnin'!" she crowed.

"Beginner's luck," Tony wheezed as he rolled himself over.

"My uncle was a world class snow ball fighter. Won two gold medals in the Winter Olympics," Abby proclaimed.

Tim frowned. "I didn' know there was snow ball fighting in the 'Lympics"

"There's lots of things you don't know, Timmy," she said with a smile.

Cassie giggled.

They sat around like that for a while, sweating and freezing all at once, blowing puffs of cold white air from their mouths and pretending they were smoking cigars.

"So what now?" Cassie asked when they'd finally caught their breath.

"Steve's got a _real_ snow ball fight goin' at his house," Tony said

"There's gotta be at least 10 kids there already," Tim nodded in agreement with his brother.

Abby shook her head, "Nah. Then we'd have to go _all_ the way to Steve's house and that's on the other end of the street. That's a seriously long walk. What if they're done by then and there's only two kids left and one of them is Steve? We walked all the way there for nothing and got all tired and what a waste, right? Let's do somethin' else. Cassie?"

"I don't think the plow man's been to Gerald's street yet, we could go see," the eight year old answered.

"Sledding?" Tim suggested and felt slightly proud when the rest of the kids agreed with his idea.

He waited with his brother while the girls got their snow tubes before the four of them moved even further up the road turning just before Miller Street onto Sycamore Drive.

Sycamore was a dead end street, downhill and the very best spot in the neighborhood for fast sledding.

Cassie was right, Tim thought, the street hadn't been plowed. He couldn't even tell where street ended and sidewalk began. At the end of the road they could see a few kids already there, standing by the lamp post.

"Hey!" his brother's friend Steve Adler called from below, "Come down!"

"Told ya' so." Abby said smugly

" Glad you didn't go to Steve's house, huh Tony?" Cassie laughed.

" Shut up," Tony said lightly, "Hop on, Tim,"

Tim sat on the back of their wooden sled. Kids made fun of how old it looked but it was the best and fastest sled in the whole neighborhood. Big enough for the two of them to fit at once. Dad made it as a Christmas present for him and Tony last year. It even had their names carved into it.

Tony climbed on in front of him, holding the handles to steer.

"Ready?" Tim called out the girls.

"Ready," Cassie replied from her own sled

"Just say 'Go' already!" Abby called from hers

"Go!" Tim shouted and the three of them slid down the incline.

Ice cold wind whipped past Tim's face making tears stream out of his eyes. Cars, houses and mounds of white whizzed in and out of his sight.

They were going fast. Too fast. He wanted to stop.

Tim tried to put his feet down but Tony yelled in his ears.

"No, Tim! We're winning!" he urged

"We'll crash," Tim cried back as they swerved near a parked car

"No we won't! Lean back."

Tim did, grabbing onto his older brother's arms for dear life.

They were going to die.

The sled hit a small patch of ice and bounced dangerously before spinning down the rest of the hill in sloppy circles. By the time the sled skidded to a stop at the bottom of the street both Tim and Tony were screaming.

Abby and Cassie pulled up quite a few seconds after them.

"You guys still alive?" Cassie asked with wide eyes

"We win!" his brother quickly recovered, " Your uncle won a gold medal, Abby? Well Gibbs was the fastest sledder in world history!" he teased.

The girls rolled their eyes.

"Hey, Tony! Tim!" Steve, Gerald, Ronnie and Paula ran up to meet them

"Wow, you were going fast. It looked like you nearly died or somethin', " Steve said.

"Thanks," Tim replied shakily.

"I was in control the whole time," his brother bragged. Tim stared at him in disbelief but decided to keep his mouth shut.

"You missed a great snowball fight," Gerald grinned, "Trent Kort went home cryin'"

"It's probably going to be the best snowball fight of the entire year and you missed it, " Ronnie taunted, "Told ya' they'd be hangin' out with those _girls._"

Gerald and Steve laughed.

Feeling insulted, Tim quickly came to their defense. "Shut up, Ron. Abby and Cassie aren't girls!"

"Yes, we are!"

"I am too!"

both girls exclaimed at the same time.

" And you're hangin' out with Paula," Tony added, pointing.

"Yeah, but Paula's not even really a girl," Steve tried to explain.

" What's wrong with being a girl?" Paula asked with a raised eyebrow and a menacing step towards the boys.

"Nothin'!" Tony, Gerald and Steve stepped back, out of Paula's reach.

"Anybody here that says I'm not a girl is getting a knuckle sandwich!" Abby shouted angrily, holding up a fist and looking directly at Tim.

He gulped.

"Let's do races," Steve suggested changing the subject, "It'll be me and Tony on one team, Cassie and Paula-"

They sledded most of the day away. First boys against girls, then one on one teams. Then older kids against younger. Tim's sled didn't lose once. Gerald was dared to stick his tongue to the lamp post but Mr. Jackson came out before he could and sent them all home. It was starting to get colder so Tim didn't complain about it one bit.

He and Tony left their friends at Sycamore drive and walked back down the street, sucking on treesicles to soothe their dry throats. Sledding took a lot of yellin' and screamin'.

Now on the other side of the street, they passed by another house that was very familiar.

Tim and his brother both decided to make one more stop.

They took shovels from the open garage. It was easier than going back to the house to get their own. Tim worked quickly but quietly. He knew Tony didn't want to get caught. They were just about finished when the door opened.

"Tim and Tony. My two favorite gentlemen," a teasing voice greeted

"Hi Naomi," Tim waved cheerfully.

Naomi had been Tim's baby sitter when he was real little and Tony's even before that. She was nice and funny and it made Tim sad that she couldn't babysit them anymore. They still came by to visit her though.

"Such nice boys. Thank you shoveling my walk way," the elderly woman smiled

His older brother blushed.

"No problem," Tim smiled, "It was real easy, right Tony?"

He turned to his brother who only nodded quietly.

Tim sighed. That was Tony. He like helping people but he didn't like it when people liked that he was helping them.

Naomi tisked, "Now Don't you start getting shy with me, Honey buns. You shouldn't be embarrassed for doing a nice thing."

Naomi had told Tim a long time ago that when Tony was a little kid, before Tim came to live with Gibbs, he used to come over her house every afternoon. The only thing that would make him stop crying for Dad was a couple of her homemade sticky rolls. Tony asked for them so often she even started calling him 'honey buns' and the nickname stuck. Tim knew that it wasn't just the shoveling that was making Tony embarrassed.

Tim giggled.

Tony glared at his brother before smiling at Naomi, "Anything for you, M'lady"

Naomi chuckled, "That's the boy I know. I had a feeling the two of you would be here today. I have special surprise for you. Come in, but leave your boots by the door."

"Yes, Ma'am," they both obeyed before quickly scurrying inside.

Sure enough there was a stack of homemade sticky rolls in the middle of her small kitchen table.

Tim licked his lips and glanced at his brother. He was practically drooling!

Naomi laughed, "I knew you would like it. I also have hot chocolate and marshamallows. If you're interested, that is."

"Yes, Ma'am. We're very interested, Naomi," his brother said eagerly. Tim nodded in agreement.

They ate until they couldn't eat anymore while Naomi told them stories about the two of them that they didn't even remember. She even gave Tim some sweets to take home to his dad. By then the road and most of the sidewalks were shoveled and plowed so the walk home was real easy.

The sight of their front door and the heat of their own fire was a welcome relief. They shucked off the outer layers as quickly as possible leaving large puddles in the hallway, gravitating towards the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Tim felt as though he were melting.

"Hey guys. Just in time for dinner," his dad greeted

"We would have been home sooner but we had to make a stop," Tony said once they'd all settled down in the kitchen, a hot bowl of beef stew in front of each of them.

"I know. Naomi called me. That was very neighborly of you, honeybuns" Gibbs smirked.

"Booosssss," Tony whined.

Tim started to laugh but then Tony kicked him underneath the table.

"What were you two up to today?" Dad asked

"We had lots of fun, Dad." Tim started, " We-"

"-had a snowball fight with Abby and Cass," Tony interrupted, " and then-"

"-An' then, An' then Gerald," Tim tried to continue, "almost got his tongue stuck on a lamp post all because- ."

"Abby said she beat me at snowball fighting but she really didn't,-"

"Ronnie said he'd give two whole dollars to anyone who tried it and Paula said not to but Gerald wasn't listenin' and then-"

"I think she was lyin' about her uncle. Dad is snowball fighting an olympic spor-"

"Mr. Jackson was real mad-"

"-Mr. Jackson looked like was gonna explode or somethin', Boss" Tony added.

"Then Abby stole Ronnie's two dollars," Tim rushed, " and he called her a -"

" We went sleddin', Boss!" Tony interjected.

"Then Mr. Jackson called Ronnie's parents. Our sled is still the fastest, Dad," Tim finished with a proud smile.

"Wow. That was... sounded like fun" Dad said after a moment

"I hope you guys aren't too tired. Since the shoveling is done I thought we could get started on a snowfort before it got too dark to see," Dad said with a look in Tim's direction.

Tim smiled. It would be the best snowfort in snow history, he was sure of it.

"I want to!" he exclaimed, "Tony, do you..." then trailed off as he looked out the kitchen window.

He squinted hard just to be sure, then smiled at what he saw.

YES! He knew it! He just knew it!

"Tim?" his dad questioned as Tim raced for the hallway and his wet things.

"It's snowing again!" He called over his shoulder, not bothering to pull on more than his boots and jacket.

He ran outside, listening to the snow crunch under his feet and looked up.

Large flakes of fluffy white came down gently and stuck to his jacket, his hands, his hair

his tongue.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it. This chapter's question is, "In what episode is the name Naomi and the nickname Honey buns mentioned?"

And a bonus: Cassie is character first seen in which episode and how does McGee know her?


	8. Late

A/N: Okay. Sorry it took me so long to post, Guys. I had trouble settling on one storyline. I have two or three unfinished chapters just from this week alone. I'm scatterbrained like that. Anyways, Congrats to everyone who answered last chapter's question correctly. Naomi is only referred to in an email (episode "Head Case") but apparently, she and Gibbs are the only ones that can call DiNozzo honey buns. Just in case there are any new readers out there, this is an AU that jumps around in time. Tony and Tim won't always be this young or this old. This is unbeta'd so (though if someone were willing to correct my work, I'd be very grateful) all mistakes are mine. Just keep in mind that some of the spelling and grammar mistakes are deliberate because I telling this story from the perspective of a 5 year old.

Tony: Age 5 (early in the school year)

Pre - Tim

Late

It's two, zero, five O'clock.

Boss always brings him here at eight, three, zero O'clock and he always picks him up at two, zero, five O'clock. He got Tony his own watch too, so he could keep track.

Tony can't tell time yet, they don't teach that here, but he knows numbers real good.

"Ronnie, your Daddy is here! Stevie! Monica!" his teacher calls.

Tony puts on his jacket while watching the door, waiting for his Boss to come.

He'll hug the big man hello and then Boss will give Tony a piggyback ride to the car and ask him how his day was. Then they'll go home.

He stares at the door for a long time and when he looks back down at the watch it says two, zero, seven.

Boss always comes at two, zero, five. The watch doesn't say two, zero, five anymore.

So where's Boss?

Tony needs to show him the picture he made of their car. He needs to tell him about the spider that came into the classroom and made everybody scream, and how the teacher squished it.

"Chuckie! Vivian! Your parents are here!"

Maybe he got the numbers wrong?

"Ms. Lee! Ms. Lee!" Tony quickly runs over to her and sticks his wrist out, "What's dis say?"

Ms. Lee squats down so she can look. " Let's see. It says... 2:08."

"I think it's maybe broked," he explains, " 'Cause my boss is 'posed to be here when the watch beeps and the watch beeped but Boss isn't here"

His teacher nods.

"Your Daddy is probably just running a little late today, Tony. Would you like to keep me company while you wait?"

She holds a hand out to him. Tony shakes his head.

Ms. Lee smiles anyway.

"Alright then. Let's get in line with the other children and wait outside for him, okay?"

Tony gets in line like he's supposed to and holds Abby's hand because she's his line buddy, but inside he feels like cryin'.

He wouldn't, cryin' is for pansies, but he's still mad at what Ms. Lee said.

He doesn't have a Daddy. Not anymore. He has a Boss.

Bosses don't drink the funny smelling stuff and forget about you. They don't leave you all alone by yourself. Sometimes you stay here and sometimes you stay with Naomi but you're never alone.

They don't yell or call you names like _pansy _and _little shit_. Bosses call you _Bud_, and _Kiddo_ and _Son, _and_ Tony_.

You can eat as much as you want and make noise at a Boss' house and nobody gets mad.

Bosses read bedtime stories. Bosses give hugs and piggyback rides. Bosses say it's okay to cry when you're sad, even though it's not. Daddies don't and Tony knows 'cause he's had a lot of daddies.

No, Boss wasn't a daddy, he was a boss and Bosses weren't late.

Unless...

"Tony, wassa matter?" Abby asks him.

They're sitting on the benches now. All the cars and the school buses are picking up kids and takin' them to their homes.

Ms. Lee is talking to a group of second graders and Tony's kind of wishing he had said 'yes' and sat with her.

It's two, one, three O'clock.

Tony tries not to be a little pussy about it but the stupid tears just keep slippin' out.

"I-I think I did somethin' bad," he sniffles.

Abby gives him a hug.

"What?" she asks

"I dunno, but the Boss 'snot comin' ta' get me."

Only bad boys got left behind or sent to stay with other people.

Abby tilts her head to the side, "But if you was naughty, Ms. Lee woulda gived you timeout, right?"

That's true.

"But Boss' said he'd be here at two, zero, five," he argues.

"Well, maybe he's late on accident," Abby says

Tony sniffles. "He is?"

"Yeah. Maybe his car 'sploded."

Tony's eyes widen.

"An' then Gibbs' foot came off! An' hey hasta use BIG needles to _stick_ it back on!" Abby exclaims.

That makes Tony feel even worse.

"If the Boss's hurt, he can't take carea me," he frowns.

That's how come he had to leave the first house, and it was a nice house too.

"I haveta live here now," he says.

"That's silly," his friend shakes her head, "You can't live at kin'ergarten!"

"Then where'm I gonna sleep?" Tony whines

"At my house!" Abby says cheefully

Tony smiles a little. "I can?"

"Uh huh," she smiles, then pokes him in the chest, "but _you _haveta eat all my veggables."

Tony nods, "I c'n do that."

Abby has a nice family. They even know the Boss, so maybe Tony can still visit him.

Tony's just about to say 'yes' when a yellow and black car whizzes down the street, making a loud screeching noise when it stops at the school.

"Boss!" Tony yells, as the older man gets out.

He tries to run across the schoolyard to the boss but the boss gets to him faster. He's lifted up and Tony can't stop crying and hugging and he doesn't even want to.

"Bosss!" he sobs, "Don' leave! Don' leave me!"

"Hey, Tony, Bud, I'm not going anywhere. Take a deep breath, okay?" The big man says, rubbing his hand back and forth Tony's back.

"I th-thought your f-foot felled off!" he continues to cry.

His eyes are all blurry but he still sees Boss frown and look down at his feet.

"...Nope," Boss says, "Got both shoes too,"

"Are ya' m-mad at m-me?" Tony asks.

"Do I look mad, Tony?" Boss asks gently

Tony thinks about it.

" Nuh-No...'Buh-But it was two, zero, five ! You w-was 'posed to be h-here at two, zero, fi-ive!" Tony chokes.

"I got caught up at work, but that's my fault not yours. I'm sorry, Kid. Won't happen again."

Tony blinks. A grown up? 'Pologizin' to him? And his boss looks real sad about it too.

"Ummm... Th-that's o-k-kay" he says, trying to remember what his Boss always does to make him feel better, "I s-still love you."

Boss smiles a bit. "Thank you, Son. I love you too. Hey, Tony?"

Tony lifts his head from the bossman's shoulder and looks up at him. "W-what?"

"You don't have to be scared if I'm late because no matter what, I will always come and get you. Okay?"

No grown up had ever said that to him before either.

"B-but what if it's a-a real long time? What if it's-," Tony looks at his watch, "two, one, six?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm on my way."

"'Kay," Tony sniffles, "but I still liekit mostest when you come at two, zero, five, Boss."

"So do I," his boss says, "You ready to get down now? Not yet?"

Tony shakes his head.

"I do have to drive home, you know." Boss says, poking a finger into this side.

Tony smiles.

"Gibbs!" Abby points an accusatory finger at his Boss as she walks over to them, "You didn't 'splode!"

"Sorry, Abbs," Boss offers as he gives Tony a piggyback ride to their car.

Just like Tony knew he would.

A/N: Hope little Abby didn't creep you guys out too much. What make and model is the 'yellow and black car' Tony was referring to? And who gave it to Gibbs (in canon)?


	9. Rule 36

A/N: Hello again. Sorry that it's been such a long wait in between chapters. To be honest, I wanted the second part to finders to be chapter 9 but it's taking me longer than I thought to complete it. I want it to be just right (it's an important chapter after all). Anyways, I hope this ficlet helps with the wait. Congrats to everyone who answered chapter 8's question correctly. Gibbs bought himself a 1971 Dodge Challenger (which looks amazingly similar to the Dodge Charger, unless they're the same thing. I know nothing about cars :P) which Jackson later fixed up and gave back to him. Just in case you're new to this story, this is an AU that bounces around in time. Tony and Tim won't always be this young or this old.

Many, many thanks to my beta Sweetpeatea. Thanks for the help, the encouragement and the chapter title :)

Rule 36

Tony: Age 10

Tim: Age 7

Timothy Gibbs was happily coloring in a page from his Ninja Turtles coloring book when his brother came into the living room.

"Hey, Timmy, wanna play shadow?" Tony said with an evil grin.

"Okay," Tim happily agreed, "How do you play?"

"How do you play?" Tony asked

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Yeah," Tony repeated

"No, really." Tim tried again

"No, really." Tony echoed.

"Is this the game, Tony?" Tim asked

"Is this the game, Tony?"

"I don't wanna play no more." Tim decided

"I don't wanna play no more." Tony replied

"That's annoyin'." Tim huffed

"That's annoyin'." Tony huffed

"Stop copyin' me!" Tim shouted

"Stop copyin' me!" Tony copied

"Stop it!" Tim shouted

"Stop it!" His older brother shouted back

"Dad!" Tim yelled in frustration running into the kitchen

"Dad!" Tony yelled following close behind him.

"Dad," Tim complained once he'd spotted his father, "Tony keeps copyin' me an' he won't shut up."

"Dad, Tony keeps copyin' me an' he won't shut up."

"Knock it off, Tony." Dad said, not looking up from his papers

Tony smiled mischievously. "Knock it off, Tony." his brother repeated.

"Anthony." Daddy warned

"Anthony." Tony copied

"Okay. Last warning." Dad growled.

"Okay. Last warning." Tony mimicked, right down to the annoyed glare.

Daddy turned back to his papers. Tony and Tim waited but nothing more was said  
for almost a minute.

He wasn't scolding Tony or glarin' or sendin'im to his room or nothing. Tim  
was disappointed.

He looked at his brother and his brother looked back at him, just as  
confused.

"Daddy?" he tried but Dad didn't even look up.

Tony shrugged his shoulders.

Tim sat down in the chair beside Dad's. "Daddy, wacha readin?"

His father didn't even look up.

"Dad, can you hear me? Tim asked nervously

Daddy looked up at him and winked before going back to his reading silently.

Tony, not seeing the wink, poked Dad in the arm worriedly. "Hey, Boss-"

Daddy smiled.

"Hey, Boss." he copied.

"Huh?" Tony frowned

"Huh?" Their dad repeated

"Heeeeyyy." Tony whined

"Heeeeyyy." Gibbs echoed

"You can't do that!"

"You can't do that!"

"That's not even how it works." Tony huffed

"That's not even how it works." Dad huffed

"I'm the copycat!" Tony insisted

"I'm the copycat!" Dad mimicked

" Whatever. I don't care." Tony said like it didn't bother him

"I don't care." Dad said like it didn't bother him either.

"She sells sea shells by the sea shore." Tony recited with a triumphant grin.

"She sells sea shells by the sea shore." Daddy copied word for word

"Awww, Man." Tony whined

" Should we call this game over?" Dad asked seriously.

"Yes." Tony grumbled.

"HAHA, Tony. You lost." Tim teased.

"HAHA, Tony. You lost." Tony mocked in a whiny voice.

"HAHA, Tony. You lost" Tim mocked Tony's mocking

"HAHA, Tony. You Lost." Tony said again

"You lost."

"You lost!"

"YOU LOST!"

"YOU LOST!'

"ENOUGH" Dad yelled over him and Tony, "No more games designed to annoy each other, or me. It's now a rule."

"What number?" his brother asked

"Rule number 18." Dad declared.

"But rule number 18 is never put metal stuff in the microwave." his brother reminded him.

"Fine, rule number... 5 then"

"Rule 5 - "Action Figures don't flush." Tim said

"It might help if you went in order, Boss." Tony suggested.

Dad smacked him on the side of the head. "What's highest number we've had?"

"Rule 35, 'We'll see' does not mean 'Yes' "

"Okay. Rule 36 it is."

Both boys groaned. Dad stood up.

"Get your jackets on. We'll go out for dinner."

"Why?" Tim asked

"Because maybe if the two of you are eating something you can't annoy each other and I can actually get some work done." Dad said

"Where are we going?" Tony asked

"How about pizza?" Their dad suggested

"Yeah!" Tim shouted

"Yeah!" Tony echoed.

Daddy glared at him. Tim did too.

Tony put his hands up. "What? I wasn't copyin' I just really like pizza."

A/N: Hope you guys can stick with me until the second part of 'Finders' is up. I promise to make it worth the wait. Chapter 9's question is, In canon, what is rule number 18?


	10. Saturdays

A/N: First things first: Congrats to everyone who answered last chapter's question correctly. Rule 18 is: It is better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.

2nd: WOOOOOT! Part 2 of Finders is done and is being sent to Beta! Party time! I can't tell you how pleased I am. Here's something to celebrate with!

Just in case you're new to this 'verse this is AU - it's a series of one shots that jump around in time. Tim and Tony won't always be this young or this old.

Special shout out to my rockin' beta Ms. Sweetpeatea. Many thanks!

Tony: Age 7

Tim: Age 4

Saturday

Gibbs shivered awake, blinking stupidly at the dull light coming from the beginnings of a sunrise through his bedroom curtains. There was an elbow digging painfully into his right side. A hand draped casually across his forehead. A foot dangerously close to a particularly sensitive area. And somehow, some way, he'd lost all possession of his blanket during the night.

"You've got to be kidding me," he growled to himself.

"Tony? Tony," he tried to rouse the oldest boy, whose sleeping position had Gibbs considering enrolling the kid in an accelerated gymnastics class.

"Mmmgrublehhh," was the seven year old's response.

"Tony," Gibbs tried again, giving his son a gentle poke in the side. "Go back to your own bed"

" 'S Bond... Tony Bond," the boy mumbled quietly in his sleep.

"Anthony," Gibbs whispered insistently.

Tony's head lifted off the mattress about an inch, hair sticking up at all angles as looked at Gibbs with squinting eyes. "Mehhhh," he half mumbled, half yawned and dropped back to sleep.

Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere with his eldest he rolled over, as much as he could roll over with about 5 inches of space and his manhood in peril, and looked at his youngest, who was lying in the opposite direction.

"Timmy. Buddy," Gibbs shook him

Tim, a lighter sleeper than his brother, opened his eyes almost immediately. "Huh?"

"Go back to bed"

"I _am_ in bed, Daddy," the little boy whined.

"No, your bed. C'mon. I'll take you to your room."

"Noooo," Tim protested.

Gibbs tried to pick Tim up by the arms but the stubborn four year old batted his hands away " 'Snight time, Bos'. Tiehd. Don' bein' mean"

Well that stopped Gibbs in his tracks. Tim had that paternal guilt thing down to a science, even half conscious.

He considered going to the boys' room to sleep but God only knew what a twin bed would do to his back.

"Fuck it," Gibbs decided, quickly turning around to make sure neither of the kids had hear him.

No worries. They were dead to the world.

"I need coffee," he grumbled to no one in particular.

He started 'old faithful' before hopping into the shower. The only perk of getting up before the boys was being able to take a leak in peace.

These thoughts were short lived however, because no sooner had he slipped on a fresh pair of boxers and a clean t shirt than was there a turning of the bathroom door knob followed by two rested children wearing matching boxer -shirt sleep apparel.

" Morning," he greeted the two of them as pleasantly as he could pre- caffeinated.

" G'mornin'," Tony answered cheerfully.

Tim grunted at him, heading straight for the head.

Gibbs pulled out the shaving cream and razor. Electric razors were fine, but he'd been shaving this way for years and couldn't quite make the switch.

"Boss," a small hand tugged on his shirt sleeve, "I wanna shave too," Tony asked with puppy dog eyes.

Gibbs shook his head in amusement. Everything Gibbs did Tony had done, wanted or tried to do. It was flattering and nerve wrecking all at the same time, to have someone watching him as closely as Tony did.

"Me too!" Tim chirped, because Tim watched Tony like Tony watched Gibbs.

Gibbs pulled out two old razors out from the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet, ones he'd taken the blades out of for just these occasions.

He lifted Tim unto the top of the closed toilet seat. Tony was tall enough to reach the sink on his own.

He wet and lathered each little face, laughing with the boys as the cool foam tickled their chins.

When both kids had taken on Santa Claus like beards, he attended to his own face. Then he handed each of them one of the worn blue razors, with warning that these were the only ones they were allowed to touch and only with him present. So far they'd managed to do this without incident (but he still kept the real razors on the high shelf, just in case).

Once both boys had readily agreed he picked up his own shaver. Moving the four blades gently across his face while the boys tried to copy his movements.

They giggled at each other's efforts and with pride at being 'just like Dad'. Gibbs instructed them on how to make the strokes, dipping his razor frequently in the warm water accumulated in the sink below and the boys did the same.

The rough stubble on his face fell away and once he was sure he was clean shaven, Gibbs wiped away the excess foam with a warm, damp cloth.

He looked up at the boys and couldn't smother his laughter.

Shaving cream still clung to cheeks in short, sloppy stripes. Drops of melting foam dripped from ears and little chins. Bits of it clug to their hair. Tim was spitting unhappily. He'd somehow gotten foam in his mouth.

He wiped clean each face to much protest, then complimented them on a job well done.

Both boys examined their reflections in the mirror, running their hands over their cheeks and chin to check for rough spots like they'd seen their Dad do a thousand times.

Gibbs was the only one to use aftershave and he was questioned multiple times about why he'd want to put 'that smelly stuff' on his face.

He quickly got the bathroom back to Marine tidiness hindered only slightly by the boys' eager help. They were still at that age where the occasional chore was fun.

Then Gibbs marched his troops into the kitchen and where he made the mistake of asking them what they wanted for breakfast.

" Pizza!... No wait, Lobster!"

" Choc'late ice c'eam!"

"Bacon and eggs it is," Gibbs decided.

Neither one of them were allowed to help with the bacon but at Tim's request he did get their help with the eggs.

" You makes mine sc'ambled, 'kay Daddy?" the four year old asked

"That's what I'm doing, Timmo," Gibbs replied as he watched the butter slowly melt into the pan.

Tim tapped him on the leg. "C'n I help?"

"Sure," he agreed easily, "Do you know how to crack an egg?"

Tim nodded assuredly, and Gibbs let him kneel on the counter as he guided his hands.

He allowed Tony to crack his own and Gibbs did the rest. He waited until the two of them weren't looking before removing the shells from the bowl.

He made quick work of the eggs while the boys manned the toaster and pretty soon breakfast was being dished onto three plates and carried into the living room along with a cup of coffee and two cups of orange juice- Tradition on a Saturday.

" TURTLE POWER!" Both boys shouted together at the tops of their lungs.

"Explain this cartoon to me again?" Gibbs frowned, sandwiched yet again between the terrible twosome. This time on the living room couch.

" 'S bow Ah bunchu tutuls dah fiy kime," Tony said around a mouthful of bacon.

"Try again," Gibbs directed, "This time without the visual"

Tony swallowed.

"Sorry. It's 'bout these turtles, they're brothers, and they got slimed with some radioactive goo, an' so now they fight bad guys with this killer ninja rat named Splinter"

"Okay, and what does this have to do with the Rennisance?"

Tony blinked. "What's a Ren-ni-sance?"

"Kowabunga!" Tim squealed with a karate kick, almost sending his eggs flying.

"Calm down, Donatello" Gibbs sat him upright, "Let the ... mutated teen things handle it"

"Teenage Mutan' Ninja Tu'tles, Daddy" Tim said exasperatedly, "An' Mikey always says Kowabunga, not Don'tello"

"I thought Mikey was the red one," Gibbs said, confused.

"No, Raph's the red one. You're bad at this," Tony commented before taking a sip of orange juice.

" Yeah, well when I was a kid we had Superman and Batman, not these Karate Turtles"

"Ninja Turtles!" the two boys protested.

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

" 'S cool. They's 'dopted like us, Daddy" Tim said informatively.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow "Really?"

" Well, duh, Boss" Tony stared at him in such a way that Gibbs knew he couldn't have learned it from anyone but him, " Four turtles with a giant rat for a Dad? That doesn' even make sense!"

He gave Tony a playful smack on the side of his head.

"Right, because that's the only thing that doesn't make sense here," he grumbled, taking a much needed sip of coffee.

The show was... alright.

Besides, he could tolerate just about anything on a Saturday

* * *

Okay, hope you cool cats liked it. Everything I know about shaving I remember from 'shaving' with my dad when I was small, which I quickly lost interest in once I realized it was a 'boy thing' :) This weeks question is... completely unrelated to NCIS. Sorry :) What was the name of the Ninja's Turtles arch enemy? Anyone?

P.S- I had trouble finding the right scenario for Finders pt 2 (characters, setting etc) and so I have quite a few alternate paragraphs (?) to 'Keepers' (aka Finders part 2) sitting on my computer if anyone is interested in reading something extra while they wait. It won't be exactly the same. Think of it as fic bloopers. Available upon request if anyone is interested.


	11. Keepers

**A/N:**HI :) I'm smiling right now. Know why I'm smiling? Because Finders Part 2 is here :). Right now. Right below you. Go read it. Go. Wait, stop. One little thing. I realized after writing this that it helps (and by helps I mean it makes more sense) if you've watched the season 2 episode, "Call of Silence". So if you've watched it already, great. If you haven't, go watch it, it's an amazing episode. Or you can look over a summary of the episode at the NCIS fanwiki:

And if you're wondering, where's the Halloween fic? It's coming tomorrow. Why tomorrow, you ask? Well, you'll find out ... tomorrow (mwahahahhaha).

But seriously, guys. I really hope you enjoy this chapter and my most sincere thanks goes to everyone who has taken the time to read, review or press the alert or favorite button. For time line sake, and because I'm not an expert some of the info may seem like a bit of a stretch. But you're reading a fic about a Baby Tony and Tim adopted by Gibbs so I'm guess you guys can handle some suspension of disbelief. I hope? Let me know what you think. Okay, enough rambling. On with the fic.

Special Thanks to my Beta Sweetpeatea :)

Tony: Age 4

Keepers 

The smaller hand in his felt strange; good, welcomed even, but strange still.

"What's dis place?"

"You'll see"

They'd walked from the Group home, even though it was past sunset. The sidewalk was still damp from the afternoon rain with plenty of puddles to jump in, on the way. Gibbs let him take a try at the smaller ones, swinging him over others and the boy squealed with delight, the hoodie of his blue windbreaker slipping off his head and leaving his pink tinted ears exposed to the late Autumn chill.

The smells of fresh baked bread and parmesan wafted from the small Mom and Pop place on the corner and the two of them stepped in eagerly, the warmth of the oven and the clanking heaters made their fingers uncurl and their noses run.

The boy looked around the restaurant, then back at him, then back to the restaurant, his face passive but his eyes darting around to soak in every detail. Gibbs and the owner exchanged a brief, but pleasant greeting before he led Anthony over to the booth in the far back corner.

The kid shrugged off his jacket and soon became dwarfed by the large table. Gibbs took a moment to look at him.

Anthony wasn't the baby he'd met almost 3 years ago. He had gained and lost some teeth for one thing, and his brown hair had lost its curls. He'd gained freckles around his nose. He was taller, thinner, funnier, clingier, his eyes shone with more pain, his smile was brighter.

_"He really is a happy baby," The older woman smiled, a sleeping Anthony snuggled in her lap, "We're so glad to have him"._

_Gibbs shifted on the couch, rolling the warm mug of coffee he'd been given between his hands._

_"That's not to say it wasn't rocky at first, ya know, but we adjusted. Little Tony here is quite the charmer," her husband continued._

_"Thank you for inviting me in, Corporal," Gibbs said respectfully._

_"Call me Ernie, please. We understand your concern, Agent Gibbs. A boy like Tony, he needs a good home. We can't thank you enough for finding him and keeping him safe. Dorothy and I, we couldn't have kids of our own, but Tony here, he's kind of like our second chance."_

_"Tony, huh?" Gibbs smiled._

_"Well, Anthony's a bit of a mouthful, don't ya think?" Ernie chuckled. "Besides, it suits him. I gotta tell you, Agent Gibbs, when you first came to our door, we thought you might be Social Services"_

_"They were skeptical about letting us foster Anthony because of our age," his wife added, "but we really fell in love with him. If everything goes well, he'll be available for adoption sometime next year and we can start the paperwork."_

_"They told us we were in good standing. So it should be smooth sailing from here."_

_Gibbs looked at the two year old sleeping soundly, at the Medal of Honor recipient and his wife, smiling fondly down at him, he put the coffee cup down on the table. He stood to shake Mr. Yost's hand and gave him a business card._

_"Leaving so soon?" Dorothy asked._

_"I have to get back to NCIS; I'm not here on official business but... If you two ever need any help, if Tony ever needs anything, you just let me know," Gibbs said sincerely._

_"Will do, Gunny," the man answered then smiled at Gibbs' look of surprise. "I know a Marine when I see one. You feel free to come back and visit if you'd like. Maybe Tony will be awake next time."_

_"Thank you, Sir," Gibbs replied. He walked away feeling incredibly relieved and strangely disappointed, knowing that it would be best if he didn't come back to the Yost residence again._

"Agent Gibbs? Sir?"

Gibbs blinked, slightly startled by the young waitress.

"Hi Alyssa," he said, reading her name tag. "Tell Nick I'll have the usual. And uh, what do you want to drink, Bud?"

It took the boy a second to realize that he was being addressed and he shrugged before turning his eyes back to the photos.

"He'll have apple juice."

"I know where we are!" Tony decided suddenly, surprising them both.

"Where are we, Tony?" Gibbs asked, amused.

"Issa pizza store," Tony grinned," 'cause of the pichers on the wall, and on'a count'a dere's gum unner the seat, an' dere's always gum unner the seat at a pizza store, see?"

Gibbs blinked at the kid's bizarre but ultimately correct logic while the waitress laughed.

She put a hand on her hip teasingly."You're very smart. What your name, little man?"

Tony smile quickly turned into a scowl," 'M Not li'l, 'M _four_"

"I'm sorry. You're right. What's your name, big man?"

" Anfony, 'cept Tony too. Wat's your name?" he asked sweetly.

"Alyssa"

"'Lyssa's a p'etty name, 'Lyssa," Anthony batted his eyelashes at her.

"Thank you"

"You gonna eat pizza too, 'Lyssa?"

"I can't, I'm working, but I'll be back to bring you your dinner. Okay?"

"'Kay, 'Lyssa" Tony replied cheerfully.

The waitress put a tin of crayons on the table and two paper placemats.

"Your son is adorable." she said to Gibbs before she moved away.

_"Look at 'im," McGee grinned. _

_Gibbs looked up briefly. __"I see him," he said good naturedly._

_Jeff turned the picture frame towards himself then back to Gibbs again. "No. Look at him. The kid looks just like his old man, doesn't he?"_

_"Yeah, Jeff," Gibbs said distractedly, shuffling files on his desk._

_"Four months old and he's already the most handsome kid to ever walk the planet"_

_"Let's not go that far."_

_"Pfftt. Some God Father you are," the now Supervisory Agent pretended to sniffle as he packed up his belongings._

_"Becoming a father was not good for your ego," Gibbs countered._

_He knew what Jeff was trying to do, but he didn't feel like company or cheering up right now._

_"Come on." Jeff was suddenly in front of his desk. "I'm buying"_

_"Not in the mood," Gibbs growled in reply._

_"Jethro, you're never in the mood," McGee pouted playfully, "Beats spending the night sanding your boat and pulling yourself further in to a funk."_

_"What makes you think I'm in a funk?" Gibbs asked._

_"You act more grizzly bear than usual when we get a child case. I swear, Gibbs, sometimes it's like I'm still working with Franks - except I never got the opprotunity to boss Mike around," he grinned at Gibbs teasingly._

_Gibbs shook his head, grabbing his gun from his desk drawer and standing up, " Well, thanks for the pep talk, Jeff. Have a nice night."_

_"Alright, alright, " Jeff aquised, " just give me thirty seconds and then you can leave. Half a minute of pep, that's all I'm asking. I'm not going to be your team leader for much longer. Humor your senior agent for old time's sake."_

_Gibbs rolled his eyes but sat back down._

_"Look- the DiNozzo kid's gotta be what, 3 now?"_

_"Yeah." 3 years old today in fact._

_"You met the family. The kid's happy. You gotta let go of the guilt, man."_

_"It's not guilt that's buggin' me." Gibbs admitted, "It's my gut."_

_"You need me to uh... look into it for you?"_

_Gibbs shook his head. "No. I'd rather not hear you whine when your ass gets caught."_

_"Hey," Jeff feigned offense, "I didn't get caught the first time."_

_"Lucky break."_

_"Don't start. We all know you don't believe in luck." McGee then sobered. "You sure, Gibbs? It wouldn't be too hard to pull up Junior's file again."_

_"Tony," Gibbs corrected, "Tony's file. And... I'm not even sure it's about him... well, it is but... aw, hell. C'mere"_

_Jeff moved closer to the desk. Gibbs slid a pamphlet in his direction._

_"Woah" the senior field agent said quietly. Gibbs shrugged._

_"'So you want to be a Foster Parent.", Jeff read. "You serious about this?"_

_"Been thinking about it. Maybe just emergency cases, kids who need a place to sleep for a night or two," Gibbs said._

_"You're really serious?"_

_"Would I be sittin' here, talking to you, if I wasn't serious, McGee?" Gibbs growled, uncomfortable with the entire situation._

_Jeff thought for a moment then slapped the pamphlet back on the table, "Well, good"._

_"Good?" Gibbs had been expecting many different responses but not that one._

_"Yeah, 'bout time you got your head out of your ass"_

"Hey," he said, tapping the boy on the shoulder.

Anthony quickly spun around and sat down on his bottom, his demeanor quickly changing in a way that still surprised the older man.

"Wanna color,?" Gibbs asked pushing the crayon tin towards the boy.

Tony reached for the tin before hesitating and reluctantly pulling his hand back. He shook his head. "Better not"

"You sure? It's okay to draw on the back of the placemats, that's what they're there for."

"No," Anthony declared with false bravado, "I don' like col'rin'. Col'rin's for dumb sissy babies"

"Who told you that?"

The four year old shrugged.

"Well, I'm going to color," Gibbs decided after a moment, reaching for the blue crayon.

It took a few minutes of drawing and watching Tony out of the corner of his eye before the boy's curiosity got the better of him.

"Wacha col'rin'? Tony asked, leaning over Gibbs' shoulder.

"My house" .Gibbs said nonchalantly, "Could you pass me the red crayon?"

Tony bit his lip.

"They's 'Lyssa's crayons, 'm not a'posed to touch stuff if'n it's not mine," he said finally, "Dhey'll get pissed at me"

"Who will?" Gibbs asked, ignoring the less than pleasant word coming from the four year old's mouth.

"The pizza store people," Tony whispered urgently

"No, they won't." Gibbs looked on either side of him then dropped his voice to a lower pitch, "You wanna know a secret?'

Tony nodded silently, leaning towards Gibbs so he could hear what he was going to say.

"Pizza store people love to share," Gibbs whispered

"They do?" Tony whispered back, eyes wide.

"Mhm. They like it when you use their crayons. In fact, I think Alyssa left these here just for you," he said confidently.

He tried not to look too pleased as a red crayon was placed gently in his hands.

"You live dere?" Tony pointed at the page a few moments later.

"Uh huh," Gibbs answered, midway through the rose bushes.

" 'S big." the little boy commented seriously.

He considered, "Yeah, I guess it is"

" Where do I s'eep?"

Gibbs tapped the blue colored window he'd drawn on the top right side of the house. "Right there, in the room next to mine"

"The whole weeken'?"

"Mhm" Gibbs said. And if this weekend went well, and the last meeting with his caseworker wasn't a complete bust, Tony would be moving in permanently in just a few short weeks.

"You excited about sleeping over?" Gibbs asked

Tony shrugged indifferently.

" I had a house one time," Tony started, bumping Gibbs over so he could color the grass.

"You did?" Gibbs asked casually. The advice from 20 hours of mandatory parenting classes about letting the child open up on his own time brought him joy at seeing Tony really start to relax.

"Yeah, but not no more," Tony finished, carefully scribbling green cross the page.

_"Mr. Yost -"_

_"Why won't anybody believe me? You said if I ever needed your help I could call ya. Well, I need your help!" the corporal insisted._

_It had only been two years since Gibbs last had last seen the man but he looked so much older, worn down. He'd given the family his card but Gibbs hadn't expected to see Corporal Yost again; certainly not with an old service weapon in his hand and confession to murder._

_" I am going to help you, Sir." Gibbs told him, "but you still haven't explained to me why you would kill Corporal Wayde Keane."_

_"I'm telling you, I don't know! I killed him... he was my best friend and I... I just..."_

_There was nearly a minute of silence before Gibbs spoke again, desperately trying to figure out where everything went wrong for this man._

_"I heard about your wife, Corporal Yost. My deepest condolences, Sir"_

_"Dorothy. She was always such a joy to be around. Even before they found the cancer, you could tell something was being taken out of her. And once we lost Tony..."_

_"Lost Tony?" Gibbs barely managed to keep his voice calm with the sudden drop in his stomach._

_He hadn't been keeping tabs on the family. He thought it best if he let them get on with their lives. What had he done?_

_"The medical bills got to be too expensive, and when Social Services found out, the adoption hadn't been finalized. It broke Dorothy's heart to give him back, hurt me something awful too. We loved that kid. After that, any light she had left in her just... went out."_

_"When did this happen?" Gibbs asked_

_"Quite a few months ago. Anthony'd just turned three."_

"Here we go," Alyssa appeared again carrying a piping hot disk of pizza and two drinks, "One large Pepperoni, Sausage and Extra Cheese courtesy of Nick D'Innocenzo"

"Wow," Tony gaped at the piled toppings and oozing mozzarella, "this's for us?"

"Yup," Gibbs smiled, "It's a special day."

"An' Pizza's spessial?" Tony asked

"This pizza is."

"Oh," the four year old nodded, taking it as fact. "Wanna piece'a pizza, 'Lyssa'?" he asked the waitress politely, "I's spessial."

The young woman laughed. "No, thank you, Tony. This pizza is so good, I think you and your daddy are going to want to eat it all"

"Gibbs's not my daddy," Tony answered in a matter of fact sort of way, "I don't gotta a daddy no more"

The waitress nodded awkwardly, looking at Gibbs with apologetic eyes before moving on to another table.

" Why?" Tony asked when she was gone.

"Why what?" Gibbs asked, confused by the sudden shift in conversation.

"Why's t'day spessial?" Tony asked

Gibbs placed a large slice on one plate and slid it over to the smaller boy who immediately took a large bite.

"Because today's the first night we get to spend the whole weekend together." Gibbs explained.

"I don' think I wanna," Tony said around a mouth full of pizza.

"What?" Gibbs asked thinking he'd maybe misheard him. Tony shrank back in his seat.

"Kiddo, I'm not mad, just surprised. You don't want to spend the weekend with me anymore?"

Tony shrugged his shoulders before asking, "C'n we go back home after pizza?"

Gibbs knew he meant The Home and not his home.

He sighed internally. Nobody, not a single solitary person, told him it was going to be easy.

"I could take you back home," he kept his voice neutral, " If you wanted."

"Good. I wanna go home."

Gibbs continued "But I would really like it if you came to visit."

Tony blinked. "How come?"

He thought a moment before answering.

"Remember when we sat down with the case worker and talked about you coming to live with me?"

"Uh huh," the little boy admitted reluctantly

"Well you're coming to stay over this weekend so you can see your room and we can hang out before we move you in," Gibbs explained.

"How come I gots ta' move?" Tony frowned, "How come you c'nt jus' come an' visit like always?"

"Because, I want my home to be your home too," Gibbs tried to explain.

_"If you want to be eligible for a license, you'll have to complete a home study," Ms. McKinna told him, "As well as 20 hours of parenting classes, also several interviews with your friends, neighbors and family, and a thorough background check. Even with a Government employee status it can take up over a year to gain clearance."_

_"I understand," Gibbs said. He wasn't giving up on this, not now that he knew he had a chance to make it right._

_"Do you really, Agent Gibbs? Because I have to tell you, even after the paper work is completed and you're cleared to foster, which I have no doubt you will be, it's still very likely that Anthony will no longer be available. Will you still want to proceed with this process if that the case?"_

_Gibbs hesitated momentarily. "Yes."_

"I will get you in touch with some private adoption agencies in the area... and Anthony's case worker."

"... So we can be a family" Gibbs he finished.

"I don' wanna fam'ly," Tony declared, "Ah'don' like fam'lys an' Ah'don' like new houses"

"Why do you say that?"

Tony opened his mouth but then quickly closed it, shrugging his shoulders again.

"You can tell me, Tony"

"Issa secret" the little boy decided finally. " Like da crayons. So you gotta, shhhh"

"Okay. I can keep a secret." Gibbs agreed easily.

He leaned forward so Tony could talk into his ear.

"Ah'don' likeit 'cause-'cause Imma rejec.. an' I always make'em pissed... they don' never like me... ," the boy whispered.

_"Tony was moved between 3 different homes during the last 16 months." the case worker read off the file.  
_

_"Aw, Tony," Gibbs sighed softly. _

_"He was last taken in by a Mr. Jeffery White and his wife Laine. Unfortunately, Anthony's caseworker at the time failed to follow up on Anthony's progress or schedules interviews with the White family. We had no idea just how poorly Anthony was being treated. As we became aware of the neglect in the foster home, Anthony was removed immediately along with several other children and placed in a group care facility." She explained._"Tony, you're not a reject," Gibbs stated firmly.

_"He does not need another man in his life that only values him for his government assistance check, Mister Gibbs_."

"Tony, you are not a reject," Gibbs said.

"Fos'ser kids is rejecs," the little boy stated calmly, as if commenting on his hair color. "But Ms. M'kinna said 'm not a'posed ta' say that no more."

"That's because whoever told you that about Foster Children was lying," Gibbs said firmly.

Tony ducked his head away and kicked at a table leg but didn't respond.

He knew fathers and foster homes were deep issues for the little boy, and he wanted to discuss Tony living with him without scaring the boy away. He just couldn't find the right words.

Gibbs thought for a moment before pulling his badge out instead. Tony looked up briefly before ducking his eyes back down.

"Dat's your policeman badge," Tony said quietly. Gibbs remember how excited Tony was when he found out that he arrested 'bad guys'.

"Yeah, you remembered, Attaboy."

The little boy shied away from the praise.

"Look up, Tony. I need you to listen," Gibbs said firmly but gently, " Are you listening?"

Tony's sorrowful green eyes met his. "Uh huh. 'M lis'nin'" he mumbled.

"See this?" Gibbs said, tapping the lettering on the badge, " It means I'm the boss. Do you know what a boss is, Tony?"

"It-it means everybody hasta do what you say," Tony answered hesitantly.

"That's right. It's my job to keep people safe. I won't let anybody hurt you. Anybody 's mean to you, I'm going to get real mean with them. Do you understand?"

Tony's eyes brightened.

"An' you can't be mean to me eiver, 'cause you're a policeman an' policemans is nice," Tony reasoned

"That's right,"Gibbs nodded reassuringly.

He knew there would probably be times when raising Tony where he would have to be 'mean' but Gibbs figured they would cross those bridges when they got to them.

One thing was for certain, he would never hurt this child. Never again.

"How long I gotta stay?" The boy asked skeptically

"You can stay as long as you want to... but I'd like it if you could stayed for good."

"...Wat's... 'for good' mean?"

_"A child is not a toy, Mister Gibbs." the woman stated, her tone accusatory and cold, "You cannot give it away once you grow tired of it. Nor can you just take it back once you've taken an interest in it again. How do I have your assurance that you're in this for the long haul?" she demanded._

_Gibbs looked the case worker dead in the eyes._

_"I haven't given up on Tony, Ms. Hart."_

"A very, very long time," Gibbs answered.

" I's like for keeps?" Tony asked innocently. Gibbs had to smile. This kid really was smart.

"Yeah, sorta like that," Gibbs nodded.

"But I don' gotta stay if'n I don' wanna," Tony stated, " If'n I wanna go home I c'n."

"I'll take you myself." Gibbs answered.

"... you p'omise?" a small voice asked after a beat.

"I promise."

Tony looked at him skeptically." He held out a small hand, pinky extended.

Gibbs hooked little fingers with him.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," he vowed.

That was enough to satisfy the four year old.

"Okay, Boss," the four year old giggled at his own joke before pointing one finger at him seriously, "But jus', for the weeken'"

"Okay, Tony," Gibbs echoed.

He saw the boy stare longingly at rest of the pizza.

"Do you want another slice?" he asked, gesturing toward the half eaten pizza.

Tony's quickly turned his eyes away, ducking his head and shrugging again.

Gibbs was already beginning to hate that gesture.

"Tony-"

"Nobody don't care what I want. I eat what 'm gived," Tony recited," When ya' say, wat ya' say, and how much ya' say I c'n eat. I stop whinin' like a lil' bitch." Tony finished with ease, looking at Gibbs with hopeful eyes, as if he were looking for praise.

He hadn't wanted to think about it when he noticed how quickly Tony devoured the first slice, as if someone was going to take it away from him. There was no ignoring it now.

_"The child was found underweight and malnourished. He shows signs of both emotional and physical neglect as well as verbal abuse," the case worker read off the file report before giving him a cold stare, "Are you prepared to nurture a child with Anthony's needs?"_

_"I can handle it."_

_"You can handle it?" Ms. Hart raised an eyebrow,"When he won't eat, when he throws up from eating too much, when he hoards food, you'll be able to deal with it all."_

_"For Anthony, I'll handle it."_

"Was that the rule at the last house you lived at?"

"I guesso. At da old house." Tony nodded

"Well, " Gibbs started, "you're spending the weekend with me so there are new rules now, Okay?"

Tony froze, listening with rapt attention.

"Rule number 1: You eat whenever you're hungry and until you're full"

He placed another slice on the boy's plate and slid it over. "Think you can remember that one?" he asked kindly.

Tony looked at him hesitantly."...Dat's a rule?"

Gibbs nodded. "A very important one."

"An' I gotta follow da' rules or else 'm in big shit," Tony nodded to himself.

Gibbs frowned slightly at his choice of words but gave an encouraging nod. He still wasn't entirely used to Tony's mouth.

Tony's eyes darted quickly between Gibbs and the pizza, waiting for the older man to change his mind as he picked up the piece up slowly and took an even slower bite.

"Ah'like that rule, Boss," he decidedly happily around a mouthful of pepperoni.

"Good," Gibbs said not unkindly, "'Cause there are more of 'em. Rule number two is: nobody in my house is a reject."

"Mmmm" the four year old hummed, ignoring him, "this's the bestest pizza I ever eated. No veggables!"

Gibbs sighed internally. Knowing that neither battle was anywhere near over.

"Glad you like it," he said.

"C'n we have pizza tomorrow too?"

"One pizza a weekend is enough, don't ya think?"

"No," the little boy smiled.

"No?" Gibbs raised an amused eyebrow.

"No!" Tony shook his head

The memories came back flooding back and Gibbs couldn't help but laugh."Tomorrow," he allowed.

Seeing this, Tony grinned proudly.

I_ would suggest enrolling him in a local preschool program as soon as possible so that he can get caught up with kids his own age, socially and academically." the case worker advised._

_ "There are a few programs I can recommend to you. The two of you are also going to have to attend mandatory therapy sessions both as a family and individually. I will be marking your progress. If I see one thing out of place, Mister Gibbs-"_

_"There won't be," Gibbs assured._

_"I'm approving the match for fostering with view to adopt," she stated, "For now. You will have supervised visits. If within a month or so everything is well, we can move Anthony into your home on a trial basis. Do not mess this up."_

_Gibbs stood up to shake her hand, "Thank you, Ms. Hart."_

Tony gave a small smile, "This weeken's gonna be fun."

**A/N:**

You thought I forgot, didn't you? The answer to the last chapter's question was: The Shredder. He's the Ninja Turtles #1 bad guy. And now for this chapter's question. Name the two episodes where Gibbs gives Tony a Sausage, Pepperoni and Extra Cheese Pizza. See you guys tomorrow :)


	12. Blondie

**A/N:** Hi Guys! The answer to the last chapter's question is: Frame Up and Kill Ari pt 2. Congrats to those who got it right :)

To everyone looking for the Halloween chapter, I owe you guys another apology. My dad asked me (in that way that parents ask where it sounds like a question, but it's not really something you can say, 'No' to.) if he could borrow my laptop for his trip to Boston. So, my laptop and all the bits of fic I'd written (including the Halloween chapter) are now up north until Thanksgiving. My (littlest) little brother is letting me use his computer to write new stuff, so there will still be new chapters, but you'll have to wait for the other stuff I had planned. Again, I'm sorry and if you guys still want the Halloween chapter after thanksgiving I would be more than happy to post it.

On a brighter note, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Also, shout out to **Cirien5** (You're my 100th alert!)

And a super special shout out to my bestest beta, Ms. **Sweetpeatea**. Thank you!

This chapter is dedicated to **Krishnaa **who wanted some Tony and Tim teen adventures. Well, this is more like teen/preteen adventures but I hope you like it anyways. You will see them older than this as well (mostly likely after Thanksgiving :))

Enjoy.

Tony: 13  
Abby: 13  
Tim: 11

Blondie

"I hate my hair!" She declared as they walked home from school on a Friday afternoon.

"Hate, is a strong word Abbs." Tony joked, giving a small yelp when Abby slugged him in the arm.

"It's not funny, Tony," she whined.

"Well, I think it looks nice," Tim piped up.

"Thanks, Timmy," she said, patting the younger boy on the head because she knew he hated it, "but blonde hair is just so... bleh"

"Bleh?" Tony repeated, amused.

"It's so ordinary, and so curly!" She complained, tugging on one of her blonde locks, "I look like freakn'... Shirley Temple. And I'm tired of all the stupid kids at school acting as though I'm less intelligent than they are. I'm at the top of our class!"

"I know, Abbs" Tony replied

"I get better grades than most of those air headed brunettes"

"We know, Abbs," both her friends said together.

"Those blonde jokes are nothing but lame stereotypes"

Tony laughed. "Oh, I got a good one. What do you call a blonde who-"

Abby stopped him dead in his tracks. "Finish that line, and I will _kill_ you."

"But where will you hide the evidence?" her best friend teased.

She punched him again.

"Why don't you just change your hair," Tim suggested.

"Like what, get it dyed or something? My parents would freak," Abby huffed.

They were always telling her, "Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

Man, she hated it when they used Dr. Seuss against her.

"So don't tell 'em" Tony said simply.

"I wear a hat at dinner and hope they won't notice?" Abby offered.

"It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission. That's what Dad always says."

Abby gave a small smile. Sometimes, she loved Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"Okay," Abby allowed, "so say I want to color it. Where would I get it done and with what money? It's not like I can just walk into a hair salon by myself, broke, and expect them to do it for me"

"I got an idea," Tony said with a knowing grin.

"What?" Tim asked warily.

"Something that will work," The older brother smirked, "but we don't have much time. The bossman should be home in two hours. And we're gonna have to be sneaky"

She smiled, "Ooh, I like sneaky"

* * *

"Oh, no way, Tony, you're out of your mind!" Abby tugged his arm in the opposite direction.

"C'mon, it's our best option," Tony argued.

"I'm not going in there. I can't stand her"

"This isn't a good idea, Tony," Tim cut in, "What if Dad finds out we weren't at the Scuitos? What if he picks us up early or somethin'? We should go back before anyone finds out."

Both Abby and Tony pretended they didn't hear him.

"You don't have to talk to her," Tony reasoned

"I don't even want to look at her! She's the one that started the whole Shirley Temple thing!"

"I don't think she meant it in a mean way," Tim soothed.

"I don't care"

"C'mon, Abbs. You want your hair dyed or not?"

Tony shoved her into the convenience store before she could protest any further.

They moved inside, looking at the various shelves before their eyes settled on an older teenage boy sweeping up.

"Welcome to David's Grocery," The kid drawled boredly, "How may I assist you?"

"We're looking for Ziva," Tony said, "Is she here?"

The older boy stared at them for a few moments and Abby was beginning to get the creeps before he said, "She is at the register"

Abby quickly pulled the two boys to the front of the store but stopped when she caught sight on the younger girl sitting behind the counter, reading a book.

"Okay, so which one of you is gonna ask her?" Abby questioned.

"Tim will do it," Tony volunteered

"What! Me?" Tim protested, "It was your stupid idea!"

"She's in your class," Tony argued

"She's your friend!" Tim exclaimed quietly, "B'sides, she looks kinda angry"

"Just go!" Her best friend shoved his little brother forward.

Tim turned around and glared at them before walking up to the counter, Abby and Tony followed behind him.

"Hi, Ziva," Tim greeted kindly.

The girl looked up from her book, giving him a nod and a small smile.

"Hello, Tim," she said before going back to her page, completely ignoring both Abby and Tony.

Abby rolled her eyes. She poked Tim in the back to get him talking.

"Um...So uh," he stuttered, "What are you reading?"

Ziva glanced upwards before answering, "To Kill a Mockingbird. So far there is nothing about bird hunting but it is... interesting."

Tim laughed, "Well, that's because it's not really about killing a mockingbird, well it is kind of, but that's more of a -"

"Oh, for Goodness-, "Tony cut in, "Ziva we need your help with something"

The twelve year old looked at him suspiciously, "What?"

"We need hair dye," Tim said

"What for?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe to, ya know, dye hair?" Abby muttered sarcastically.

"Abbs!" Tony hissed, poking her in the side.

Ziva glared at her.

"So go buy your hair dye," the girl answered simply, turning back to her book without another thought.

Tony yanked it out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"See, there's a few teenie tiny problems with that idea," Tony continued smoothly.

"Give me my book back before I break your fingers," Ziva said calmly.

"Look, Ziva. We kind of have a money issue. And I don't think your dad would sell it to us either way so... we were wondering if you wouldn't mind going into the back and getting us a box?"

Abby watched as Ziva sat for a minute pretending to contemplate. What a creep!

"I can get your hair dye," the girl decided.

Tony and Tim smiled. "Great. Thanks"

The three of them waited but Ziva didn't move from her seat. They stared at each other.

"Well?" Abby asked finally

"Well what?" Ziva asked 'innocently'

"The hair dye?"

"What am I getting in return?" The dark haired girl asked.

Abby sighed frustrated.

"Uh...the joy of helping out a friend?" Tony offered

Ziva stared at him.

"Okay, I'll do your homework for a week," her friend bargained.

"You?" Ziva scoffed.

"Okay," Tony said easily, "Tim will do your homework"

"I do not want Tim to do my homework," Ziva said.

"Well then what do you want?"

She tapped her finger to her chin, "I will think about it and get back to you. But the two of you," she pointed at both Tony and Tim, "Will have to pay the... pay the... pauper"

"You mean, pay the pi-per," Tony corrected. Abby snorted.

"Whatever," Ziva shook her head, "You two will owe me, yes? And it will be big."

Tim visibly gulped

"Alright, deal." Tony said, "Now, the dye? Please?"

"What color?"

The boys looked at Abby.

"Anything dark brown, thanks." Abby said as nicely as she could.

Ziva stood up. "I will be back," she said before going through the 'Employees Only' door.

Abby sighed.

"Thanks, Guys,"

"No problem." Tony smiled.

"How can you say that?" Tim swallowed, "We now owe Ziva a 'big favor'."

Sooner than they expected, Ziva came back out pulling a small tub, some gloves and a piece of folded paper from the front pocket of her sweatshirt.

"Here"

"Where's the box?" Tim questioned.

"My father is back there. I could not just pick up the box and walk away with it, could I? It was easier to do this," she said, handing them the supplies.

Tony shrugged at Abby and she shrugged back. They didn't really need the box.

"Thanks, Zeevah," Tony grinned.

Ziva smiled coyly before settling back in her chair.

"Leave. Now."

* * *

"What next?" Abby asked head hanging upside down over the Gibbs' bathroom sink.

She was pretty sure her shirt was stained as well as the counters but there was no going back now.

"How long has it been?" Tim asked

"Half an hour," Tony answered, looking at his watch, "We gotta hurry this up, guys. We don't have much time to get back to Abby's before Boss shows up"

"Okay, lather and wash hair with the 'Easy Dye' shampoo," Tim read the directions from the folded paper, "Rinse until water runs clear"

"Abbs, why don't you hop in the shower? Don't worry, I won't watch." Tony wriggled his eyebrows.

"Shut up, Tony"

Abby washed her hair over the bathroom sink, being careful not to get too much water everywhere.

"It still looks kinda dark," Tony commented while standing over her.

"Well, I haven't washed it all out yet. Gimme a second"

She finished rinsing then repeated the process with the condtioner, drying off her hair when she was finished.

"Okay." She stood up and turned around to face them. "Now, how does it look?"

Her two friends gaped at her.

"What?" she asked impatiently.

"Uh..." Tim finally said, "It's uh..."

"Spit it out, Tim, before you choke on it."

"It's black," Tony blurted in awe.

"What?" Abby cried.

She turned around to look closer in the mirror. A pale face with wavy, night black hair, blonde edges and blonde streaks stared back at her.

"Actually, it kind of looks like leopard print"

"Oh my gosh, you guys!" Abby exclaimed

"I told you it looked dark," Tony tried to say.

"Oh, my gosh"

Now that she really looked, there was black dye everywhere; in the sink, on the towel, on her clothes, on her hands...

Now it seemed so obvious, but she'd never dyed hair before. She thought the dye was supposed to be that dark, just not on her hair! What's more it was lighter in some parts than in others and she could tell a couple of spots were barely touched with dye at all.

She knew she shouldn't have let teenage boys do her hair! This was worse than the time Cousin Mickey convinced her to climb into the sting ray tank at the Aquarium.

"Oh, my gosh," Abby wailed frantically, "Oh my gosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh-"

"Abbs, calm down," Tony said slowly.

"Calm down? I can seek forgiveness for brown, but black? Ohmygosh, ohmygosh... I'm going to kill Ziva!"

"Abby-"

"She totally did this on purpose!"

"Abby, it doesn't look that bad," Tim tried to soothe

Abby bit her lip.

"It doesn't?"

Both boys started talking at once.

"...Well, it's not blonde anymore, well not totally blonde..."

"Yeah, it's like... I mean, it's cool, black's cool..."

"...I'd dye my hair black... if I were a girl..."

Abby whined nervously.

"Maybe if I dry it a little more it will lighten up?" She looked at them hopefully.

After four washes and enough towel drying to wear her scalp raw, Abby's hair was still black. Well, most of it anyways.

"Maybe you could wear a hat 'til it wears off?" Tim suggested

Abby plopped down on the toilet seat and sniffled. Tony smacked his little brother on the head.

"Ow!"

"Not helping, Squirt."

Tony turned to her. "It's really not that bad, Abbs. I think I'm starting to get used to it."

"You are?" she sniffed, unconvinced.

"Yeah, it's just... different, that's all"

"Maybe, it just looks... different... because some blonde is still showing," Tim suggested.

Sighing, she parted her wavy, damp hair down the middle with her fingers, pulling it into two pigtails to try and hide the lighter spots.

"How about now? Is it less noticeable?" She asked hopefully.

Tony and Tim stared at her for a second, and then looked at each other, then back at her.

"Ya know," Tim said, slowly tilting his head to the side, "With the pigtails...if you ignore the blond bits, it's not half bad. I kinda like it like that."

"Yeah," Tony nodded, "With the pigtails. I didn't see it at first but you kind of got the whole 'Vampira' thing going on."

Abby turned towards the mirror again.

It did sort of look better that way, with the pigtails. It was weird, but she liked weird, and she did almost look like a Vampire. Vampires were really cool. All she really needed was a black outfit to match. Yeah, she could get used to this hair. She smiled.

Best of all, her parents were gonna freak!

"You really like it?" She asked

"-Yeah"

"-Totally"

"-You look scary, but the good kind of scary"

"Thanks," She replied happily, pigtails swinging. "I'll let it finish drying and then-"

The rest of her words were cut off by the unmistakable bark of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

All three of them spun around surprise.

Even after all these years he still managed to sneak up on them, she thought with a huff.

"Abby?" He asked, and then turned to his sons, ''What are you three doing here?"

She waited for the inevitable explosion.

"What the hell did you do to your hair?"

* * *

Her eyes followed Gibbs as he paced back and forth in front of the three of them.

The two boys sat beside her on the living room couch. She wanted to look and see if they were fidgeting as much as she was, but was to mesmerized by the steady movements of the older man to turn her head away.

Gibbs finally stopped dead center.

"What were you thinking?" he asked, with a low growl that, if it had been anybody else, would have made her throat go dry.

Nobody said anything for a moment before Tim bravely but quietly cleared his throat, "It is better to seek forgive-"

"Don't!" Gibbs immediately cut him off, pointing a warning finger at him, "Don't even try to pull that with me. That is a rule for work. In this house, when you're unsure if it's okay to do something, you ask permission. If you're sure it's okay, you ask permission anyway. And if I recall correctly, the three of you were supposed to be at the Scuitos. So whose bright idea was this?"

Tony raised his hand hesitantly.

"In our defense, we were actually trying to make it brow- shutting up, Boss," Tony finished quickly, shrinking back at the Gibbs glare.

"This, is why you aren't allowed to babysit, Anthony. I told you to watch your brother; to go to Abby's and you disobeyed me. Does that sound responsible to you?"

Tony flushed.

He turned to Tim "And how many times do I have to tell you not to go along with what your brother is doing when you know it's wrong?"

"Well..." Tim murmured.

"Gibbs," Abby tried, feeling sorry for her friends, "Chill. It was my idea."

The bossman's glare was ice cold.

"Did you just tell me to _chill_, Abby?"

She swallowed. "Uh... if it's going to make you angrier, No"

Gibbs looked upwards as if he were praying for strength, "Abby, you shouldn't put chemicals like that in your hair at your age. You're only thirteen. And by the looks of it, you're going to have to get it redone. Not to mention what your mother will say when she sees you, and now I have to tell her you got it done at my house. I'm not even going to ask where the three of you got it."

"We don't have to tell her," she started to joke then trailed off when he held his hand up.

"You also got your friends in trouble. Were you thinking about them when you decided to do this?"

Well, when he put it like that she felt really, really bad.

"'M Sorry, Gibbs," she said sheepishly, "Tony. Tim"

The bossman sighed and gave her gaver her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "Abby, I love you like a daughter"

She gave him a small, hopeful smile.

"That's why I'm grounding you from Tony and Tim for the next two weeks"

"Gibbs!" Abby protested.

"What? Boss, she's my best friend!" Tony argued

"Dad, that's so unfair!"

"Save it, Boys" Gibbs barked, "I haven't even gotten to your punishment yet."

Her two friends slumped back in their seats.

He turned back to her "And I'm hand delivering you to your parents"

"Awww. C'mon, Bossman," Abby complained "Can't ya just-"

"Nope," he interrupted, "You did this at my house, and you face my consequences. Grab your coat. Tony? Tim? You two start cleaning that bathroom. And for your sake I hope that dye comes out."

The boys trudged down the hall, muttering mutinous words.

"C'mon, Abbs" Gibbs said, much gentler than before, "Time to face the music."

Abby dragged her feet.

"Gibbs," She called his name as they walked out the front door.

He turned towards her.

"You like it though, right?" She smiled cheekily, "I mean, the dye job sucks, but the color?"

Gibbs smirked.

"It's very... you, Abbs" he said before opening the passenger seat for her.

Abby gave a small, happy jump before getting into the car.

So worth it.

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you guys liked it. And I know that Ziva/Tiva is a sensitive topic in 'NCIS World' right now so I just want to clear up a few things. This was not meant to be a 'bash Ziva' or 'bash Abby' chapter in any way. David's groccery and Ziva's appearences were plot devices more than anything else. But, I found I had such fun writing her, Ziva might pop up again in later chapters. If you watch the episodes where Ziva first shows up, Abby is not fond of her at all which is why Abby didn't like her much in this chapter. And, just so I don't get anyone's hopes up unnecessarily, there won't be any Tiva in this story. I'm just not that fond of the idea. Hope that cleared things up for people if things needed to be cleared up.

This chapter's question is: In which NCIS episode does Abby, 'go blonde'?


	13. Family

A/N: Congratulations to everyone who answered the last chapter's question correctly. Abby went blond in episode, 'Witch Hunt' when she dressed up like Marilyn Monroe for Halloween. This is series of one shots that jump around in time. Tony and Tim won't always be this young or this old.

Tony: Age 7

Tim: Age 4

Family

The D.C taxi cab managed to make it to the right street without too much trouble, which was saying something what with the icy roads and the sharp wind blowing snow in all directions. Jackson was sure to leave him a decent tip.

He declined the man's offer to help him with his bags. It was a short walk to the Gibbs' door step and he only had a small suitcase with him.

He and Leroy had long since patched up what was left of their relationship not soon after his first tour of duty, (it certainly but things in perspective for both of them,) but they weren't exactly close. They'd never have the relationship Leroy and his mother had and it was best if he didn't over stay his welcome.

Never the less, Jackson was glad to be here and that his son invited him. He hadn't been to the old house in almost a year and it had been far too long since he'd last seen-

SPLAT!

Jackson was ripped from his thoughts by an ice cold snowball to the back. Grimacing at the slush dripping onto his pants leg, he glanced over the street, surprisingly empty in the late afternoon. His sharp eyes quickly zoned in on the culprit: a blue and white hat peaking out from behind a yellow and black charger.

Healthy giggles could be heard just over the freezing wind.

Jackson's eyes narrowed.

"Anthony Gibbs!" he scolded, "You think this is funny? I know it's you, Boy. Come out from behind that car!"

The giggles immediately stopped as the guilty 7 year old slunk out of his hiding place.

The boy fiddled nervously with his snowflake covered jacket. "Sorry, Grandpa Jack," he said contritely.

"Too late for sorries now," Jackson snapped, "Get over here"

Startled by the older man's reaction but knowing better than to disobey, Tony hastened over to the spot Jackson indicated with his pointer finger.

As soon as the boy was within reach, Jackson grabbed him around the middle. Tony yelped in surprise.

"What did you think you were doing?" Jackson asked, keeping a firm grip on the kid's waste as he tickled his sides mercilessly. "Hitting your poor old grandpa with snowballs when it's freeeezing out here?"

" 'Ms'rry!" Tony squealed, wriggling to get out of the olderman's hold but finding himself virtually stuck.

"Hmmm," Jack pondered, turning both himself and Tony towards the street, "This calls for payback. Maybe I should throw you in to that snow bank over there? How about that."

"NO," Tony yelled in horror as Jack half dragged half carried him in that direction.

"Well, why not? You'd make a great snow man," Jackson nodded.

"No. Please. I'll do anything!" the boys eyes danced with mirth as he was pushed towards the large pile.

"Well... I am forgiving man," Jackson started, stopping his trek towards the snowbank and setting Tony on his feet properly, "So I'm willing to let this slide. But on one condition... You'll have to be my official taste tester when I make Christmas dinner. Can ya do that, Ant?" The older Gibbs asked, using his personal nickname for the boy.

"Oh, yeah. I can do that," Tony agreed readily.

"Good, "Jackson said, before lightly pushing Tony, who easily lost his balance and fell into the white powder of the Gibbs' front yard.

"Ah!"

"Now we're even," Jackson chuckled as he walked towards the front door, his excited grandson trailing behind him.

The door opened before he could even reach for the knob.

"Jack," Leroy greeted him with a raised eyebrow, "...been playing in the snow?"

"Boss, I found Grandpa for ya!" Ant announced from behind him.

"That's good work, Tony. No more snowballs"

The little boy pouted.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, Son," Jack said, as he was pulled into a hug.

"Good ta see ya, Dad," Leroy murmured as Jack held onto to him for a little longer than necessary.

"It's good to see you too, Leroy," he whispered.

"Me next, Boss!" Tony demanded after the two had broken apart.

"You're cold as an icicle, kid. Didn't I tell you to put gloves on?" LJ groused but hoisted the kid into his arms, hugging him to his chest obligingly.

"Come on," His son gave him a small smile, "Inside before you freeze ta death"

Jackson walked into house tripping a bit on one of the boy's wayward action figures.

As soon as Leroy set Anthony down the boy dragged him by the arm into the kitchen where his youngest grandson was diligently attacking unsalted butter with a spoon.

"Timmy! Grandpa Jack is here!" Tony called.

The four year old looked at him speculatively before ducking behind his older brother, and then his father's pants leg once Leroy arrived in the kitchen.

"C'mon, Tim," Jackson chuckled, "It's Jack. You remember me."

The little boy shook his head, pressing his face into his father's calf. Leroy absently put a comforting hand on the kid's back.

"It's been a while since they've seen you," his son said, the unspoken 'Sorry' hanging in the air.

Jackson gave look that said, 'It's alright, Son. I can handle it from here' and said, " You don't remember, Tim?"

Timothy shook his head.

"I was at your last birthday party"

Tim stared at him blankly.

" You got that big wheel? We played cops and robbers."

"I 'member the big wheel," Tim offered.

Jackson sighed dramatically. "Well, if Tim doesn't want to come say hello, I guess I'll have to give the treat I have for you boys to someone else.""

Tim's head popped out from behind his father's leg. "A treat?"

"Yes! Alright, Jack!" Tony yelled, racing back down the hall for Jackson's luggage.

Tim trailed quickly behind him.

"Tony, keep your nosy little butt outta that bag," LJ admonished, walking over to pull his eldest away from his grandfather's things and leaving Jack by himself.

Jackson looked around, marveling at how much the house had changed in 3 short years. Toys all over the floor, pictures all over the walls. Even the kitchen screamed fatherhood.

The three soon returned, little Tim heading the crowd, pouting.

"We couldn' findit"

"We found presents but Boss said we couldn't open those," Tony grumbled.

"You can't find the treat because it's not ready. Yet" Jackson answered.

" 'S not?" Tim frowned

"Nope. This kind of treat, you have to make yourself. You two up for it?"

"Yeah" Tony agreed readily, "but what is it?"

Jackson and Leroy shared a knowing look over his grandson's shoulders.

"You'll know when it's ready," Jackson smiled.

"You gonna help, right Boss?" Tim asked, already extending a hand out to the older man.

"Sure," Leroy answered, swinging the four year old up onto the table.

"First, we need brown sugar," Jackson directed. "and if you could get the large saucepan out for me, Leroy?"

Hands were washed and little feet dashed two and fro to get the necessary ingredients.

Soon Jackson was carefully stirring a bubbling mixture at the stove while the boys worked with their father at the table.

"So, what did you boys ask Santa for Christmas?" he asked casually

"I want the Power Rangers Movie an' ninja turtles an' a new watch an' the sneakers that light up and a giga pet an' creepy crawlers an' a skate board like Ronnie Sacks gots an' a race car!" Tony piped up immediately.

"You want _another_ race car, Ant?" Jackson asked, thinking of the boys impressive matchbox collection.

"Not a _little_ car" Tony explained, "One I can sit in and drive around. Like on TV"

Jackson remembered seeing those new child sized, battery operated cars on the television. They looked awfully expensive. " I don't know if Santa's going to be able to carry all that in his sleigh, Bud."

Tony gave a long suffering sigh "I know _that_. Santa can't get you _all_ the stuff you want, Grandpa. That's how come you gotta make your list big"

"Really?" Jackson said, surprised, " Did your uh... Boss tell you that about Santa?"

"Uh huh. He said it's 'cause Santa doesn't wan' us ta be spoiled"

Jackson barked a laugh.

"I'm sure that's exactly what Leroy said"

"Gran'pa, who's Leroy?" Tim asked innocently as he tried to sneak another piece of popcorn.

"_Who's Leroy?_ That's Leroy right there" Jackson pointed to his son.

When Tim realized who he was referring to he looked at him as if he'd grown a second set of eyes.

"That's _Daddy_," the four year old corrected him.

"You're right. You call him Daddy," Jackson said, "but his real name is Leroy Jethro."

"Leroy Jethro?" Tony giggled incredulously.

"Yup," Jackson said proudly.

"I fought his name was Boss," Tim said, bewildered.

Leroy smiled behind his coffee cup.

Tony laughed hysterically.

"He thinks your name's Boss, Boss!"

"Just a nickname, Tim," Jack answered.

"Like Daddy?" Tim offered

"I'd say so, " Jack answered with a meaningful look in Tony's direction.

Tim frowned at this new information."But then how come?"

"How come Leroy has a nick name?" Jackson asked, frowning.

"No, how come you nameded him?" Tim insisted

Jackson chuckled, "I named him because I'm Leroy's daddy"

Tim's mouth dropped into an 'o' of surprise. "Nuh Uh!"

"Sure am"

"Nuh Uh! Issat true, Boss?"

"I've wondered," his son murmured into his coffee cup.

The entirety of this information suddenly dawned on his eldest grandchild and Tony smiled mischievously. "Gran'pa, If you was Boss's Dad, then he has ta do what you say, right?"

Without looking at Leroy, Jackson answserd "Yup"

"So," Tony started, eyes widening at the possibilities, "So if you tell him to go ta bed, he hasta?"

"I'm his father," Jackson answered. Leroy gave him a glare that dared him to try.

Tony looked delighted.

"When Leroy was litttler, didja make 'im eat vegtables?" the seven year old asked with a gleam in his eye.

"Uh huh" His son answered for him.

"Even broc'li?" Tim asked, making a face

Jackson grinned at his son mischievously before saying,

"Oh, yeah. I made Leroy eat lots and lots of broccoli. And spinach. Everyday."

Both boys seemed incredibly amused by this idea.

"What 'bout cawots?"

Leroy caught his attention from over the boys' shoulder.

_/Can you keep the boys occupied for a little while? I have a few things to finish up/,_ his son signed quickly

_/Sure/, _he answered, knowing his son was up to something

Leroy nodded once in thanks. _/Keep them in the kitchen if you can/_

"Be right back, boys," LJ said, but neither boy paid any attention to their father's departure. They were occupied with more pressing matters.

"Did Leroy have a bedtime?"

"Didja make'im take bafs?"

"Didja make'im clean his room?"

"And make his bed" Jackson added, while he took the bubbling pot off the stove.

"Help me mix this in, Boys," Jackson directed as he poured mixture slowly into the large bowl of popcorn, "And I'll tell you all about Leroy."

Soon their treat was in oven toasting, the boys helping him mix and spread the popcorn every 10 minutes or so while Jackson answered their questions about what Leroy looked like, and what he did and how much trouble he got into.

"He was a handful, alright" Jackson recalled some time later, "In fact, one Christmas, when your father was five years old..."

"Jack, you don't want to tell that story," his son protested as he reentered the room.

"Well, sure I do, Leroy."

Both boys giggled.

"One time, when Leroy was five years old, he got upset because I wouldn't let him hang the Christmas ornaments on the tree. They were easy to break and I was going to work, you see. Now, I told him he'd have to wait until I got home, but Leroy had a temper, and he waited until I had left. Took down every single last ornament and decoration we had already put up around the house and threw them out into the snow."

Both boys looked at their father with wide eyes.

"Dat's bad!" Tim scolded, "You're not a'posed ta do dat, Daddy!"

"Ooooh... was Boss on the naughty list?" Tony asked in shock

"No, I think Santa forgave him in time for Christmas," Jackson answered with a knowing smile in his Leroy's direction.

Jethro shook his head in amusement.

The boys breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's good" Tony nodded

"Is it ready yet, Gran'pa?" Tim asked

"Just a little while yet, fellas," Jackson answered "We'll let this cool down for a bit and then I'll let the two of you try your treat"

Under much protest from the younger members of the family, they had a quick spaghetti dinner. Afterwards, his two grandsons dragged him into the living room to show him their tree. He offered to help Leroy do the dishes but his stubborn son declined.

"Go spend time with your grandkids," he said softly.

"And this is where Santa is gonna put my racecar. Right there. I hope," Tony finishing his tree description sheepishly, tapping his foot on floor directly beneath tree's star.

"An' my space s'ip!" Tim piped up, "sos I can go ta outside space"

"It's outter space." Tony rolled his eyes, "An' I already tol'ja, Santa can't bring ya ta space. He only brings toys."

"...So!" Little Tim countered after a moment.

"Gran'pa," Tony pleaded in frustration, "Tell'im"

"Well, I don't know, Ant. I think Santa could do it, if it was for a good boy or girl"

"Timmy's a good girl," Tony snickered.

" 'M a _boy_!"Tim protested heatedly.

"You just wait. When Santa comes I'm gonna ask 'im," Tony declared.

Fortunately, any future arguments were broken by the return of their father who was carrying a tray with four mugs and a large bowl precariously balanced.

"Is it time? Is it time?" Tim bounced in anticipation.

LJ answered looking just as hungry for caramel corn as the boys were.

His grandson's scurried over to the living room couch where their father had set up camp. All three of them had their hands hovering over the bowl when Jackson stopped them.

"Wait. Not quite yet," Jackson said, continuing on when Leroy started to open his mouth, "We're missing one key ingredient"

Ignoring their protests he searched through the various books and G rated movies for a certain tape he knew Leroy had.

"Here it is" Jackson's eyes twinkled when he spotted it.

"What?" Tony asked, kneeling on the couch to get a better look.

"The greatest Christmas movie in movie history," Jack smiled wistfully, "can't have caramel corn without it"

He popped the tape in the VCR, fiddled with the rabbit ears a bit and then settled back on the couch, both boys squished between himself and Leroy.

"Go 'head. Dig in," Jackson encouraged once 'Welcome to Bedford Falls' appeared on the screen.

"Mmmmm," Tony hummed in delight, wriggling from side to side as much as the blankets would allow.

"Good huh?" Jackson grabbed a handful

"Ah like dus twee'," Tim agreed with a full mouth

Even Leroy seemed to be enjoying it

" Not bad, Dad," his son nodded, eyes still on the television screen.

"Should be. It's your mom's recipe," Jackson remembered

"Her favorite movie," Leroy nodded towards the screen after a moment of silence.

"Yeah," Jackson answered quietly, "Well. Tradition"

It was a wonder what with the warm fire, hot cider and piles of pillows that Jackson managed to stay awake through the whole movie.

The clicking of the VCR signified the end of the tape and Jackson quietly slid out from underneath a heavily sleeping Tim.

"Time to wrap presents?" he asked

"Actually," Leroy spoke as he tucked another pillow under a snoring Tony's head. "If you're not too tired, I could use your help with something"

Jackson rolled his eyes fondly before shushing his son, crooking his finger in silent direction to follow him to the basement quietly.

They spent most the night and into the early morning working, and talking, and although Leroy offered to bed him down in his room several times, neither of them slept.

Jackson took a moment to rest in the living room arm chair while Leroy got the turkey prepped. The sooner it was started, the sooner they could eat.

The boys were still sound alseep, having missed 'Santa' entirely and the neatly wrapped pile of presents were placed carefully under the tree.

Not that he was thinking much about the gifts at all. No, he was thinking about Leroy . And the boys. And family memories that had long since fallen by the wayside.

There were so many changes he'd seen in the past three years. His son wasn't the angry, withdrawn young man he'd once been and while Jackson would like to think it was his doing, he knew it really was because of Anthony and Tim. Leroy had always needed to be needed and the boys in turn adored their father. Jackson loved them for it. The house seemed to grow in warmth every year.

He closed his eyes, thinking of these things... only for a moment... so it was a big surprise to him when he was awoken from his... 'thinking'... by loud singing.

"Jingle Bells! Batman Smells!

Robin laid an Egg!

The Batmobile, lost its wheel

and Joker got away. Hey!"

He followed the noise into the kitchen where Leroy was basting the turkey and Tim and Tony, still dressed in their pajamas, were starting another chorus of their 'Jingle Bells' song.

"How long was I out?" Jackson yawned as he sat himself on the stool beside his son's.

"Can we open presents now? Huh? Can we?" Tim and Tony pleaded

Jack made quick work of freshening up as to not agitate his grandchildren further. It's not as though they were going anywhere today anyway. And when he returned, the boys were already seated in front of the tree, surveying the presents with admirable restraint.

"Alright, you two," Leroy said finally, "go ahead"

The next half an hour was a flurry of hastily shred wrapping paper and discarded bows with 'oohs' and 'aahs' from the youngest two- the only hiccup being, of course, with his gift.

Sweaters weren't at the top of the boys' Christmas lists but the Jackson was sure the baseball cards, hard candies and matchbox racers inside the pockets more than made up for it.

It wasn't until both boys were lying in a exhausted pile of happiness that LJ gave him his present.

"Thought we said no gifts," Jackson reminded him as he took the flat package reluctantly.

"Not really a gift." To Jackson's surprise Leroy looked rather uncomfortable, " More like a promise."

It was a pamphlet for a lake not too far from Stillwater. He looked up at his son curiously.

"I thought maybe the four of us could spend a week there while the boys are on spring vacation. Know how much you like fishing," his son finished with a meaninful look.

"That'd be real nice, Leroy," Jackson nodded at his son with a soft smile. He looked at his grandkids, currently tearing into a new box of creepy crawlers, "I really would enjoy fishing more often. Thank you."

"Leroy," Tony echoed with a giggle.

"Anthony," LJ answered back, unfazed, as he moved into the kitchen to check on the Christmas meal.

"So, did Santa bring you what you wanted?" Jackson asked as he kicked wrapping paper half heartedly into neater piles.

"Most of it," Tony smiled, "See Timmy? Tol'ja 'bout the spaceship."

Tim shrugged indifferently, too focused on his box of K'nex to give more of a response.

"Boys, go get out of those pajamas and wash your faces. Uncle Ducky will be over for lunch soon," his son called from the other room.

Both boys groaned but marched obediently up the stairs.

Jackson joined Leroy in the kitchen grinning conspiratorially. They waited in silence until they heard shouts. Then incomprehensible squealing. Then thundering footsteps as two boys raced back downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Boss! Boss!" Tony shouted, "Look what Santa did! Come look! Hurry!" Tony shouted before tearing up the stairs again.

Tim scurried after him.

Jackson and Leroy followed them upstairs and into their room, smiling satisfactorily at the source of the boy's excitement.

The traditional wood frame of Tony's bed had been replaced by a custom Ferrari GT shaped frame, carved and then painted with the painstaking care. The solid wood and large mattress meant it would last much longer than any toy car.

"My car's a bed!" Tony shouted excitedly, bouncing onto it, "An' I can sit in it an' sleep in it an' I can even drive it, see?"

"Lookit mine!" Tim shouted dragging his father by the arm to his side of the room.

Tim's bed frame was now a rocket ship. Well, it actually looked more like the nose of plane than a real space ship, but Jackson couldn't expect Leroy to be perfect, and it wasn't as if Tim noticed the difference. Tim's surrounding walls had been covered in large pictures of the planets and LJ was pointed out, to Tim's delight, little plastic stars were stuck to the ceiling that glowed in the dark.

Jackson had no idea how long it took Leroy to carve and build these presents but if the hours it took just for the two of them to put it together were any indication, Leroy had been planning this since sometime last year.

"Best Christmas ever!" Tony exclaimed, bouncing on the bed in earnest only stopping after a stern look from his father.

"You boys are pretty lucky," Jackson agreed, "Did you know your father helped Santa make this gift?"

The boys stared at Leroy with wide eyes. "He did?"

"I think you two owe him a thank you, don't you?"

Both boys eagerly wrapped their arms around each of Leroy's legs. "Thanks, Boss!" "Thank you, Daddy"

Leroy rested a hand on top of each head.

"You're welcome. Alright, showers and clean clothes, boys. Don't want Ducky to catch you still lying around in your pajamas."

"I can't wait for Uncle Ducky ta see my race car!"

"Can he has more car'mel corn wif us?"

The boys started shedding pajama shirts and pulling out new outfits with their father's assistance and Jackson started towards the kitchen. Someone had to make sure the rest of their meal didn't burn.

If this springtime fishing trip was anywhere near as special as this Christmas visit, Jackson couldn't wait.

"Gran'pa!" A voice called from upstairs, "Leroy stuck his tongue out at me!"

"Leroy..." Jackson called up as sternly as he could without laughing, before deciding the food would keep and heading back up the steps.

* * *

A/N: This chapter's question: According to DiNozzo Family tradition (canon), caramel popcorn is to be enjoyed along with what tasty beverage? Thanks for reading!


	14. Sleep

A/N:

Wow and this only took me 4 months to write. Guys, I didn't abandon this story... intentionally. To be honest, I hit a writer's block and considering I don't have much of an attention span to begin with, it made for really, really slow writing. I tend to get frustrated if I can't finish something like a one shot or complete an idea in one sitting. So, I tend to leave that particular story line and start a new one. Then I get frustrated with that one and start a new one. When the urge hits me, I go back to the original. This makes for about 12 or so uncompleted one shots sitting on my computer. I have no idea when any of them, besides the one I'm giving to you now, will be finished. I'm really sorry.

I know that probably doesn't make you feel any better, but I just want you guys to know that I haven't given up on Attaboys, it will be 'finished' (in the sense that I won't stop until all the puzzle pieces have been fit in with some nice kidfic in between) and I promise that I won't make any more half-cocked promises. No more promises like, "the next chapter will be about_" or "I'll have a new chapter out by _" because with my attention span it just isn't certain. Sorry, but I think it's better to be honest rather than to keep making excuses. So that's what I'll do from now on.

Once again, I apologize for making you guys wait.

On a lighter, brighter note, in my time away I've learned to moon walk. Which is pretty cool.

Also, congrats to everyone who answered the last chapter's question correctly. I realized I must have confused some people by putting the answer in my fic (accidentally) but Cider was the correct choice. DiNozzo Tradition :)

This chapter goes out to **Toadflame**, **Smartkid37** and **Precious Pup** who wanted to see what it was like for Gibbs, McGee and Tony just starting out as a family.

Also,very many thanks to **Ms. Sweetpeatea**, my fantabulous beta.

Thanks guys! To everyone who reviewed and everyone who is still reading. I'm appreciate you sticking with me.

Now, on to the fic!

* * *

Tim: age 2

Tony: age 5

Sleep

"Da-ddy!" The little boy gripped Jethro around the neck, his nails digging half moon imprints into Gibbs' skin.

"I know, I know. Shhh."

Gibbs bounced as he paced up and down the soft carpet of the hallway, speaking in hushed tones to the toddler wailing in his ear.

"Easy, buddy."

Gibbs stopped for a moment to shift Tim onto his right hip.

" Want Da- Dadd-y!" The two year old sobbed.

"I know you can't tell time right now, Tim," Gibbs continued up the hallway, " but it's 4:00 am. That's pretty early in the morning."

Tim hiccuped.

" I have to be at work at seven. Tony has to go to kindergarten and you to daycare."

" Want. Da-ddy!" The boy hollered.

"All the coffee in the world isn't going to help if I don't get at least 2 hours of sleep tonight. Half my team will be transfered or shot."

Gibbs shifted the boy further away from his ear. "You have to sleep, Timmo."

At those words, Tim's sobs grew to hysterical shrieks.

"No! No s-sleep! Da-ddy! M-Mama!"

The little boy tried to wriggle out of Gibbs' grasp but he held firm.

_Jeff, you should be here right now. Not me._

"I'm not doing this the right way, I know," he spoke, his warm palm smoothing down the back of the kid's hair, "Not how they did it, any way. But I'm better than I was a month ago. And we have fun most days, right?"

After a few minutes of struggling Tim slumped against his chest, too tired to continue fighting.

"One more hour, Tim. You can do that, can't ya? I promise, everything will look better in the morning if you do," Gibbs murmured.

"Wan'. Da-ddy," Tim whimpered but finally settled down.

Gibbs titled his head towards the ceiling in silent thanks for the respite before looking down at the tear streaked face.

"I know you do."

This was the third time Tim woke up screaming tonight.

Carefully cradling the bundle in his arms, Gibbs toed the bedroom door open with a foot, not daring to turn on the light.

In the bed next to Tim's, Tony lay still and silent under the covers, oblivious to everything going on around him.

Gibbs breathed a second sigh of relief.

He eased the door shut as Tim began a fresh crying jag, renewing his efforts to escape from Gibbs' grasp.

" Want Dow'!" the little boy exclaimed, tears trickling down his blotchy cheeks, " Dow', Gib!"

Gibbs ignored the protests as he carried the boy down the stairs and away from his new brother's room. "Let's not wake Tony up, Buddy. Somebody's got to get some sleep around here."

Once he'd reached the landing Gibbs pulled the child away to arms length.

"Dow!" Tim demanded tearfully.

"Uncle Gibbs is going to put you down," He explained, "but you have to be calm, okay?"

"'Kay." Tim gasped between hiccups.

The last thing he needed to do tonight was a chase a hysterical two year old around the house.

Gibbs realized it was a mistake as soon as the toddler's feet touched the ground. Tim took off, his little footie pajamas making him slip and slide as he ran towards living room.

"Tim,"

Gibbs didn't catch up with him until he'd already pressed his face to the nearest window pane, eyes looking left and right.

"Daddy!" the two year old called out as a car's head lights flashed by, "Daddy!"

"Daddy's not there, Tim," Gibbs shook his head, grabbing the boy's hand to pull him away from the window.

Tim wrenched his arm away. "No. No! Daddy..."

The living room windows, door bells, the ringing of the telephone- Tim kept watch over all three, eyes alight for brief moments of hope before realizing his parents weren't going to make an appearence.

No more cars forthcoming, Tim threw himself onto the floor, choking and spluttering enough to make himself sick.

"Da-ddy, no!"

_Jeff_, Gibbs wondered for the thousandth time in four weeks, _what the hell were you thinking?_

He lifted the kid up and away.

"Let's go into the kitchen, Timmo," Gibbs tried to soothe_, _"I have something I think will help you sleep."

Tim shuddered, pressing his little face into Gibbs' shoulder and soaking snot into his t-shirt as he carried him to the kitchen counter.

" Wan' Da-ddy!"

"My uh,Jack, used to do this for me when I was small," Gibbs said as he pulled a half gallon from the fridge,"You've had warm milk before, right?"

"No," Tim wailed as he was set down in his high chair.

Gibbs made quick work of pouring the milk and starting a flame.

"Hey, hey. You're alright. I'm coming." He picked Tim back up with one arm before returning to the sauce pan.

Tim lowered his volume once he was in Gibbs' arms but still continued to cry despondently.

"My father swears by sugar and cinnamon but I think you'll like warm milk and honey," Gibbs murmured as he stirred.

"Da-ddy go," Tim sniffled again.

"I know, Tim," Gibbs answered again, doing his best to keep the frustration out of his voice.

It wasn't Tim's fault. Just Jeff, Rachel and that fucking Toyota.

He wiped a hand over his face he turned off the stove, closing his eyes to block out the noise and ease his migraine.

On nights like these he couldn't help but play with the idea of letting Jeff's parents take Tim to Florida like they wanted.

They may not know Tim better but they didn't have another child to raise either. They weren't doing this alone. They weren't trying to lead a team and raise a family while running on fumes.

It would be easier on all of them. And Gibbs knew easy didn't mean right, but he didn't anticipate things being _this_ hard for _this_ long.

It was his gut that told him to join the Marines. His gut that kept him up at night, churning in worry for Tony until he got up the nerve to do something about it. It was his gut that demanded he give a firm 'Yes' when Jeff and Rachel asked him to be a godfather.

He lived by his gut and it usually served him well.

Now he wasn't wondering for the first time if he'd made a mistake in trusting it. Or if Jeff hadn't made the bigger mistake of trusting him.

It wasn't that he didn't love Tim. You only had to take one look at the kid and you wanted to spoil him.

But that's what godfather's were supposed to, right? The spoiling.

A few trips to baseball games and the zoo. Christmas and birthday presents. The obligatory goofy picture at graduation. Not this.

This wasn't what he wanted.

And what kind of messed up thought was that?

_What was he missing? What was causing him to fail at this so miserably?_

_Is this what you wanted, Jeff?_

His eyes popped open at the sound of a creaking floorboard. His son stood in the kitchen doorway, gripping his stuffed penguin tightly to his chest.

_Great. Just great._

Gibbs felt a rush of guilt wash over him. If he'd been really checking on Tony, he would have noticed that the kid was lying too still and too silent.

How long had he been up?

"Tony," Gibbs sighed.

Realizing he was caught the little boy backed away immediately, turning to go upstairs.

"No, wait. C'mere," Gibbs called after him.

"To'y!" Tim cried out, squirming, arms outstrechted to the older boy.

After a few moments Tony stepped hesitantly into the kitchen.

"You can't sleep?" Gibbs tried to ask lightly.

The five year old shuffled in place. "'S too noisy. Boss, when's the baby goin' back home?"

Gibbs swallowed, trying to keep in mind that Tony was trying to adjust to all this too.

"Tony we talked about Timmy coming to live with us, remember? This is his home now," Gibbs tried again to explain.

Tony ignored the answer, kicking a sock covered foot at the air.

"Could you do me a favor and hold him for a minute, Bud, while I finish this?" Gibbs asked, nodding towards the stove.

His son frowned but capitulated, going to sit in a nearby chair so Gibbs could put the baby in his lap.

"My name's To-ny, not _toey_," his son scowled at the sniffling toddler.

Gibbs ignored the noise behind him, focusing on pouring the milk into two cups.

"Here, Timmy," Gibbs offered the sippy cup to the boy after giving Tony his.

Tim turned his face away. "No."

"C'mon, son," Gibbs sighed, putting the cup to the boys mouth, "I'm all outta ideas here-"

"No!" Tim squealed, quickly becoming agitated. He knocked the cup away sprinkling Tony with milk in the process.

"Stupid baby," Tony responded, pinching the kid's arm in retaliation, "shut up."

Tim dissolved into a new batch of tears.

"Tony," Gibbs scolded, scooping the younger child out of the older one's arms,"You don't do that. Ever. Do I pinch you or tell you to shut up?"

By the look on his son's face, Gibbs suspected that someone must have, and more than once.

Lately, it seemed like everything he'd worked on with Tony was becoming undone. But Gibbs also knew he wasn't in the right state of mind to discipline and so he let it be.

"Drink your milk, Son," Gibbs grunted as he rubbed Tim's back.

Tony drank, Tim cried and to Gibbs' distress, it got later.

"Did I hurt 'em?" Tony stared up at him guilty once Gibbs managed to get Tim's sobs down to quiet weeping.

Gibbs noted, with another wave of guilt, that Tony had small bags under his own eyes.

_I hate you right now, Jeff. I really do._

"No, Tony," Gibbs answered, "Tim's just having a rough night."

"The baby's sad," the five year old nodded.

Gibbs glanced at the kitchen clock and bounced Tim again. Tim pressed his forehead against his shoulder.

"He wants ta go home," Tony added.

Gibbs counted to ten.

"Tony..."

"He _does_."

"He can't."

"How come?" Tony asked, tears of frustration coming to his own eyes, " 'cause of the accident?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, Tony. Because of the accident."

"Oh," Tony replied solemnly.

"...Never?"

Gibbs ignored the question and picked the sippy cup off the floor. He rinsed it and tried again, but Tim wanted nothing to do with it.

"You could sing him a song," Tony offered with a yawn, "Ms. Lee sings songs when we're sad."

"I tried two hours ago. He didn't like it." Gibbs answered with a sharper tone than he meant to use.

"You must notta singed it right," Tony shook his head. "You have to sing 'em the _good_ song. So he won't wanna go home so much."

Gibbs didn't have any idea what Tony was talking about.

"Why don't you teach it to him, Tony?" Gibbs suggested wearily as he put the toddler back into his son's lap.

Tim began to fuss. Tony scowled at the little boy but didn't protest.

"Kay" he decided after a moment, "but only so's he can stop hurtin' my ears."

"No pinching, Tony," Gibbs reminded him.

"No pinchin', " Tony echoed before squeezing Tim's cheeks between both of his hands. Gibbs moved to stop him before realizing that Tony wasn't being rough.

"Baby," Tony said sternly, turning the boys face towards him, "you gotta listen', 'cause this is 'portant. You listenin'?"

Getting no response from toddler, Tony looked up at Gibbs exasperatedly.

"Go ahead, Tony," Gibbs encouraged. At this point he'd try anything.

Tony nodded and began to sing.

"Lit-tle cabin in the woods. Little... um, lil...'" Tony trailed off, looking up at him sheepishly.

"Little man by the window stood." Gibbs added, catching on.

This was Tony's favorite song? He'd only sung it to him once. A desperate move to coax the boy out of his closet during a thunderstorm.

"Saw a rabbit hopping by, knocking at the door," they sang together.

Timothy hiccuped and stared at the two of them with watery blue eyes.

"Is it workin'?" little Tony whispered.

"Better sing the rest," Gibbs mumbled back.

"Help me! Help me!" Tony giggled at Gibbs' squeaky rabbit voice. "Can you please? Before the hunter catches me."

"Little rabbit come inside, safely you'll abide," they finished.

Tim sniffled but no new tears fell.

"Again?" Tony asked.

Gibbs nodded.

They tired it again, Gibbs signing words like 'rabbit' and 'knocking' along with the lullaby this time.

Tim watched them each time, entranced. His tears dried up and Gibbs started to relax. He didn't know if it was the song itself, or if Tim had finally cried himself out, but it was working.

"Wab-bit" Tim finally slurred after the 10th or 15th go around, his head tilted back against Tony's chest, blinking heavily.

Tony had already nodded off, leaning dangerously close to the edge of his chair. Gibbs pulled him upright before he could fall off.

Gibbs made a mental note to ask Naomi if she would watch Tony today instead of sending him to kindergarten. The boy would spend probably spend most of the day sleeping on her couch anyway.

He rested a hand on top of Tim's head, who was now dozing and carefully lifted him up. Gibbs sang Tony's song softly as he carried the boy towards the kitchen door.

Put Tim to bed first, then Tony, then himself.

Gibbs glanced mournfully at the kitchen clock. Or maybe not.

Figures they'd conk out minutes before they all had to wake up.

Well, the boys could sleep where they were headed. Gibbs' day was just getting started.

But coffee would do. He knew the meaning of Semper Fi, and he may have retired from the armed forces but he'd be damned if he quit being a marine. McGee knew that about him.

_Is this what you wanted, Jeff? _

Gibbs glanced one last time at the clock again before making his way up the stairs. Damn.

* * *

A/N: I realize there are different versions of the song I used, quiet a few of them, but I chose the one I remember from my own childhood. Hope that's okay. Unfortunately, there aren't any NCIS related questions I can think of that would connect to this chapter in some way. Sorry, Trivia Fans. What I can do is ask you whose POV you like hearing best. Personally, I find it the easiest to write Tim. What do you think.? Tony, Tim or Gibbs? Or do you prefer when I use an outside character like Kate (Sitter) or Ducky (Visit)?


	15. Mistake

A/N:

Hi all :)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed or pressed 'favorite' or 'alert' for the last chapter. It was cool to see what POVs readers liked best. I was surprised to see the results were pretty mixed.

This one goes out to **Kirshnaa** whose idea inspired this one-shot. Thank you!

Also a special thank you once again, for my world class grammar tamer,** Ms. Sweatpeatea**.

Warning number 1: I tried something different. This fic **switches POV**. First Tim, then Tony and then Tim again as indicated by the little break markers between parts.

Warning number 2: I tried hard not to make this cliche. I failed.

Enjoy!

Tim: Age 15

Tony: Age 17 (Almost 18).

Mistake

Tim shuffled into the kitchen, head protesting and eyes drooping with fatigue from an all-night English paper- only to be awoken by a cellphone whizzing past his head.

He jumped.

The phone smacked against the adjacent wall with a sharp crack, bits of micro chip and cheap plastic littering the surrounding area.

Across the room stood its less than happy owner, still glaring at the pulverized device in case it got the nerve to challenge him again.

"Um, Dad?"

"Shut up."

"Okay..."

Only years of practice kept the fifteen year old from laughing out loud. He grabbed the orange juice and headed to the table before Gibbs could catch the look on his face.

"How'd your paper go?" Dad asked, as he pulled the coffee can from the cabinet.

"Is there any way you could have Dr. Gwen arrested before 3rd period English?" Tim asked.

"On what charges?"

"Pre meditated thesis -slaughter," He grumbled.

Dad gave a small laugh, "Might be easier to finish your essay, Tim."

"Not for me."

"This coming from the smartest kid in the 11th grade. I really feel your pain," Gibbs mocked lightly.

Tim shrugged from his slumped position at the kitchen table, making half-hearted swipes at the cereal box in the hopes that breakfast would glide the rest of the way to him.

"Dad?" he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Yeah, Tim," Gibbs answered absently

"Can I have money for the movies this weekend?"

Dad considered him for a moment.

"I only need 30 dollars," Tim wheedled.

"Alright," Dad eventually nodded, "Clean the gutters for me and mow the lawn and you have a deal."

Tim bit his lip.

"What about the dishes?" he tried, "I did them twice this week. And the laundry. That has to be worth something."

"You mean your chores?" Dad scoffed as he fiddled with water measurements, "I'm not shelling out extra cash for things you're supposed to do around the house."

"We are the only kids, in this entire neighborhood, who don't get a weekly allowance," Tim complained, "And how come I'm the only one around here mowing lawns and cleaning gutters for pocket change? What about Tony?"

Gibbs jabbed at the percolator. "Keep complaining to me about other kids, Tim, and you'll be cleaning out the gutters for free. You want the cash, you have to work for it. End of story."

Tim dropped his forehead to the counter in resignation. It was already Wednesday and there was no way he was going to be able to get the lawn, the gutters and his homework done by Friday night.

"C'mon, Gibbs. Why does everything have to be _earned_?" he whined, " Can't you just give me a loan or something?"

"Woah," Tony interrupted as he stepped over the electronic elephant in the room, " Either Gibbs destroyed another phone, or one of Tim's geek experiments finally put itself out of its misery."

Tim chucked a Frootloop hard at his brother's head but Tony caught it easily with his mouth.

"Oh!" His brother cheered, arms spread wide.

"If only we could take all that energy wasted on his mouth and transfer it to his brain," He wondered aloud.

"Timmy's grumpy," Tony observed with a grin, " He didn't give you the money, did he? Told ya so."

The older boy glided on socked feet to the coffee pot, helping himself to a cup and adding far too much sugar.

"So, what happened, Boss? Annoying ringtone? Couldn't unlock your keypad? They put your number in the paper again?" Tony smirked.

Tim snorted into his cereal bowl.

"They're gonna think you had an accident, you keep it up," Gibbs threatened from behind his newspaper.

"Nah-," Tony snatched up Tim's cereal box and dug his hand inside.

" You love drinking your morning brew more than beating your precious children."

"I love peace and quiet," Gibbs retorted.

"I love you, Dad," Tony grinned.

" I love,' Tim interjected with a hand pressed to his still-pounding head, "how the two of you are just so, _so_ funny. I'm hysterical with laughter, Guys, seriously."

"Damn thing wouldn't stop beeping," Dad grumped, "I fixed it."

"Yeah, we can see that, Pops."

Tim shook his head mournfully at the bits and pieces across the room. What a waste of semi-conductive polymers and aluminum alloys.

"Oh." his brother announced, " before I forget. We have a track meet against this Friday against-, "

"Butler." Tim finished. "Yeah, Tony. We know. You've only told us every morning this week."

Tony shook his head at him. " So bitter. Anyways, I'm starting, so make sure you get there early, Boss. Remember you said-"

"I'd be there," Dad finished, the corners of his mouth tilting up.

"Okay," Tony grinned, "Just double checking. Oh, and after the meet I was thinking I could maybe borrow the car? Please?"

Gibbs put down his newspaper, suddenly turning serious.

"Dad, before you say anything about Stat class, " Tony started, "I just want to let you know I have it covered now. No worries."

Tim quickly busied himself with buttering a piece of toast, ears perked up to hear the fall out. His brother had been trying, without success, to get himself off weekend restriction for the past 3 weeks.

He could almost hear Dad glaring.

"I don't want to see another D on a test, Tony-"

"C'mon, Dad. Lighten up a bit. It's practically the end of the school year. I already got into OSU-"

"On a scholarship. Which can easily be taken away if your grades start to slip."

"They won't," his brother hastily assured their father, "Ms. Hanes loves me. Statistics is in the bag. So I'll be back around-"

"I didn't say yes," Dad interrupted.

"Boss, please. One night out isn't going to kill my grade. I have plenty of time to study. Geekboy, help me out here." Tony sent a pleading look his way.

Tim huffed.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but in Tony's defense," he started, " Ms. Hanes is the easiest teacher on the planet. Even _he_ can't fail. Besides, if Tony's not allowed to drive this weekend then I'm stuck in the house too. Again, why punish the innocent child?"

Gibbs shot him an impatient look and Tim wondered if he hadn't just sunk it for the both of them.

"Don't worry, innocent child," Dad answered, turning back to the sports section, " If you still want to go to the movies after the meet I can drive you."

"Uh, no. Never mind. That's okay," Tim blushed, going back to his cereal with renewed gusto.

"Wait a second," Tony mocked, "What's Timmy got planned? And with who?"

"None of your business," Tim sapped.

" Wait, I know who it is," Tony sing-songed, "It's Erin, isn't it? The Erin from your physics class. The Erin you talk about in your sleep."

" I don'-It's not." Tim blushed and knocked his brothers hand away when Tony tried nudged his side. "Shut up."

"Good choice," Tony allowed, "I mean, for a geek."

Sitting up a bit, Tim gave his brother a skeptical look..

"You really think so?"

Erin was the only one that really got him - maybe because she'd skipped ahead too. Well, okay, by only one year, but she was still smart. And she said he was cute.

An older woman wanted _him_.

"She's alright," Tony admitted.

"She has a tongue ring," Tim added slyly.

"Yeah?" His brother's eyes gleamed. "Forget the movie. I say, stay in."

"He's too young to stay in," Gibbs interjected firmly.

Tim and Tony exchanged an exasperated look.

"Y'know," Tim said, " If I had _cash_ I could go out..."

"If you cleaned the gutters and mowed the lawn you'd have cash," Dad answered.

"I've got an idea," Tony piped up in between licking sugar coated fingers.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I know, Tony. I should sell my brain to science. Hur hur."

"No," Tony answered seriously, "You could fix what's left of Dad's cellphone. That has to be worth at least 30 bucks, right?"

Tim brightened. He glanced at his father, who was looking at them over his paper with interest.

"Beats learning to how to use a new one, right, Boss?" Tony added

"Didn't learn how to use the old one," Gibbs grunted, " But fine. If you can reboot the... thing or whatever you do, Tim, by Friday, I'll give you the cash."

"Deal," Tim readily agreed, "Thanks, Dad."

Tony grinned, looking proud of himself.

"I'm late for work," Gibbs announced soon after setting his empty coffee cup down."You two miss the bus, you're walking. So get moving,"

"On it," the two of them answered at once, standing to put things away.

"And Tony?"

"Sir?" his brother teased, yelping when Gibbs gave him a playful whack upside the head.

"Use a bowl next time. You're at the breakfast table, not a frat house," Dad admonished as he made his way to the front door.

"It tastes better from the box," Tony called after him.

He turned back to Tim with a mischievous grin. "I love that guy."

Tim rolled his eyes.

"Thanks Tony, ya know, for helping me out back there," he offered, putting his bowl in the dishwasher.

"Oh, don't thank me yet." Tony gave a sly grin. "Now you have to help convince the bossman to let me drive you there and back, 'cause I am not missing this date."

Tim tried not to wince at his brother's giddy expression. Tony could smell embarassment.

"Wow. You're creepy, " Tim deadpanned.

"Don't be stupid. I'm bringing Paula."

"Thought Dad said no dates until your grade came up."

"It's not my date. It's yours," Tony answered, "I know just the place too. Some guys from the team are having a party after the meet and everybody's going to be there."

"I kind of wanted to go to the movies?" Tim interjected.

"This will be much more fun, I promise. Erin will love it," Tony nodded, "Plus I'm saving you like, 25 bucks."

Tim sighed as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, moving to collect the salvageable cell phone pieces from the pile.

Whatever Tony's motives were, he got him the cash, and without him Tim wasn't going anywhere anyway, so he owed him one.

* * *

" 'M gonna _die_," Tim whimpered.

"You're not going to die, Tim. Shut up." Tony rolled his eyes as he helped his brother out of the car.

"Yeah, I am going to die. And I didn't even finis' cleanin' out the gutters!" his little brother wailed.

"Would you please stop talking," Tony snapped.

He towed his brother up the street, every so often putting a hand on his shoulder to balance him. Even though there were only a few houses away it was a slow process. Tim's inebriated gait didn't help matters.

Tony always knew the squirt was going to be a lightweight, but this was ridiculous.

Two beers. Two frickin' beers.

"How come you parked so far from the house?" Tim whined as they trudged up the street.

"Because," Tony started in a tone usually reserved for five year olds, "if we park in front of the house, Gibbs will know we're home. And he'll come downstairs and bury us under the basement floor."

" 'M gonna _die_," Tim moaned before lapsing into panicked giggles. "M so _dead_. Dad's gonna be so mad. So mad. It'll be, It'll be like, the Wrath of Khan... _the Wrath of Gibbs._"

Tim choked on another half-snort, "Oh, man, I can' go in there!"

Tim doubled over just outside of Mr. Horn's yard, swallowing heavily.

Tony grimaced.

"You're not going to be sick, are ya?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," Tim shook his head, " I think."

His brother promptly puked onto the neighbors lawn.

Tony waited until 5 minutes had passed with no vomit before pulling Tim upright, holding his chin with his hand.

His younger brother wobbled slightly in his grasp.

"Listen. To me, Smalls," Tony said slowly, "This is a matter of life, and death. We're going to walk in. Quietly. You're not going to make any noise. You're not going to talk. You're not going to breathe. I'll take you to your room and you're going to sleep it off. Got it?"

"Uh huh," Tim nodded, "Tony. Who's Sm-Smalls?"

Tony lifted his eyes upward, "You're killing me."

"Come on," Tony grunted, pulling his little brother past their mailbox, "Hold the rest of your vomit 'til we get to a bathroom, Tipsy Tim"

Tim brushed him off. "I can walk m'self, Tony, geez. 'S my funeral."

"What are you doing?"

His little brother swayed slightly just ahead of him, carefully going up the third and final step to their home before reaching for the door handle.

Tony yanked him back just in time.

"Hey!" the fifteen year old protested.

"Shhh," Tony hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Wha'? I was bein' quiet."

"This is _Gibbs_ we're talking about. You think he hasn't already thought of the front door?" Tony stated incredulously.

"All the lights are off..." his little brother blinked, surveying the dark house.

"That's just to lead us into a false sense of security," Tony answered, "Wait here."

The older boy crept to the side window, and waited a good 30 seconds before peeking in. It was too dark to see but he didn't sense any movement from the kitchen or the living room; where he'd usually find Gibbs after coming home from a night out.

It was all quiet.

Too quiet.

"We're going through the back door, " Tony decided.

He tugged Tim around to the side of the house, his little brother complaining loudly about squishing spiders in the dark accidentally.

"Be careful! They're 'mportant to our eco-sys-system," Tim mumbled as he stumbled against him.

"You're sure you only had two drinks, Squirt?"

"Yeah, two," Tim nodded, holding up his pointer and middle fingers for emphasis, " Jus' two. Maybe three. And the water bottle of...something, Erin and I had. I'll tell you this though, I didn' taste anything _like_ water."

Tony let out a rush of air.

"You stay here, Tim, and I'm going to go check if the coast is clear and come back for you."

"Alright, good, " Tim responded, " 'cause I feel like I might puke again-"

Tony clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Remember the plan," he insisted.

Tim nodded silently.

Tony slowly let go of the kid's mouth and turned the knob.

He eased the door open and took a few cautious steps in, squinting his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

"Okay, c'mon," he ushered his brother in.

He led Tim through with both hands clamped firmly on the kid's shoulders, not wanting his brother to bump into something and make made their way through the laundry room and past basement door with no noise other than the sounds of their breathing.

Reaching the hallway connecting the kitchen, living room and upstairs, Tony froze. This was it. Gibbs had somehow sensed Tony was going to let his little brother get absolutely trashed because he was too busy making out with his girlfriend to watch him properly, and was no doubt waiting to bust them for it. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Tony waited for the lights to switch on at the arm chair or by the kitchen door, signaling the jig was up.

It never came.

Tony jerked around, breathing heavily.

"Tony-" Tim started.

"Shhhh"

What heck was going on? This was usually the part where he got caught red handed. What was Gibbs waiting for?

He pulled Tim over to the nearest light switch and flicked it on, gasping quitely at the empty room.

Did the man fall asleep under his boat or something?

Suddenly buzzing with the realization that they might actually get away with it, Tony looked towards the illuminated stairs above them.

They had a clear path towards home free.

"C'mon, Tim, we're almost there," Tony whispered as he took the first step.

" Dude, 'M tired. I'm just gonna lie on the couch," Tim mumbled, turning back towards the living room.

"No," Tony asserted, pulling him back.

"But I can't go all the way upstairs today, Ton-y," Tim argued, " 'M too drunk."

"You're not drunk, Tim, you're just a little buzzed is all," Tony lied.

"No," Tim shook his head, " 'M def'nitely drunk. My blood alcohol level is like, 10.8 at leas', I can feel it."

"Tim, 10 more steps and Dad never has to know," Tony grunted as he pulled his little brother up the first step.

Even drunk Tim seemed to realize this was big news. The next step was quicker and with less effort on Tony's part.

The next one even quicker and lighter than that.

Tony sighed with relief. "About time you started helping out, Man."

"-I didn't know you needed help."

Tony whipped around to see Dad a step behind them, steadying Tim by the back.

"Be careful," the big man admonished as Tony startled.

"Gibbs!" Tony swallowed, one hand going to his chest, "Where the hell did you come from?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, no," Tim gulped, turning towards their father, " 'S Boss."

"Let's get you in bed, Kid," Gibbs directed, giving Tim a light push.

"Dad," Tony started, "I-"

"We'll talk later," the older man answered shortly.

Tony flinched at the expression on his father's face.

"Dad?" his little brother whined as he stumbled up the remaining steps and to their bedroom door.

"Yeah, Tim."

" 'M in trouble, huh?"

"You have no idea, Son," Boss shook his head.

Tony swallowed.

"Oh." his little brother frowned. " Dad?"

"Hmm"

"I don' wanna be buried unner the basemen', " Tim whimpered.

Boss shot Tony a questioning look over his brother's shoulder. Tony shrugged.

"Alright..."

"It won' be structur'lly sound, Dad," Tim insisted.

"It's gonna be okay, Tim. Just get in bed."

His little brother didn't need to be told twice. Tony watched him walk shakily towards his side of the room before flopping down heavily on the mattress.

"Ohhh," the fifteen year old moaned, letting one of his arms and half his head hang over the edge.

"You gonna be alright?" Their father asked as he moved their waste paper basket closer to Tim. "Not feeling sick, are you?"

His little brother shook his head, eyes closed. "Sleepy."

"Alright. Wake me up if you need me. I'll see you in the morning,"

Dad turned to him, crooking one finger as he walked out of the room. Tony followed quickly.

Out in the hallway Tony slunk over to the spot directly infront of his Boss's feet, feeling all of 6 years old again. Although he was almost an inch taller than his dad, Tony was finding it difficult to look him in the eye at that moment.

"Do you have any idea the name of the creek you're up without a paddle? Or how deep it is?" Boss asked with feigned calm.

"Up to my knees?" Tony murmured, looking at his toes.

"Oh, so you're familiar with this creek."

Tony squirmed and shifted silently under his dad's gaze.

"Explain."

Nervous, he blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Well, we obviously didn't go to the movies-"

The smart remark with immediately met with a swift slap to the back of his head.

"You want to try that again?" Dad challenged.

Tony nodded quickly.

"Eyes up, Son."

Guilty green eyes met piercing blue and before Tony knew it, the words came tumbling out.

"Boss, I honestly don't know how it happened," Tony rambled, "I mean, one minute he's talking with a few of his dork wrestling buddies and the next. The next? He's picking a fight the football captain. In Klingon! I know, I told him he could have a beer, just one beer, Dad, cause It's a party you know and he was nervous about Erin. But I didn't tell him to do _that._" Tony pointed back incredulously at his bedroom door.

"I didn't know he was going to go nuts_._ And as soon as I realized, I took him straight home. I'm sorry. I- I was distracted," he finished.

"Distracted," Gibbs repeated. "Any chance this distraction goes by the name of Paula Cassidy?"

Tony blushed. "I -"

"Dammit, Tony," Gibbs growled, "Did you drink tonight? Did you drink and drive home?"

"No, Sir, I swear," Tony answered seriously.

"All I had was cream soda. I knew I had to get Tim, Erin and Paula home. I wouldn't do that, Dad, " he continued as Gibbs lifted up both his eye lids, examining the pupils.

He watched Dad step back, seemingly satisfied. After a moment the man nodded.

"Alright, I believe you. That was smart, responsible thinking, Tony. It's just too bad I can't say the same for the rest of the night."

Tony winced.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs...It's just, I hadn't seen Paula outside of class in almost a month and -"

"Don't start with excuses, Tony, " Gibbs interrupted, "I think we both knew when you volunteered to drive Tim you were going bring your girlfriend along. I don't care."

"Then?"

"-Let's run them down," Gibbs answered, "First, I don't remember green-lighting any party - lie of omission. Second, - _Eyes up, Anthony_- Second, you deliberately undermined my authority. The rule is no drinking until you're 21. Period. You don't set the rules for Tim. I do."

"I know, Boss. I know-" Tony pleaded.

"But what really pisses me off is the sneaking around. You do something wrong, Tony, you face it like a man. You don't try to hide things from me. And above all I expect you to have your brother's six. Always. You didn't do that tonight."

Tony wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear. For a few years at least.

"I screwed up, Dad." he admitted.

"Yeah. You did." Gibbs agreed. "Nothing that can't be fixed, but I really want you to think about this, Tony. You're going to college this fall and I"m not always going to be around to pull you back from the line. You know what's expected of you whether you choose to ignore it or not."

"I got it," Tony whispered, looking the man in the eyes.

"If you don't now, you sure as hell will tomorrow," Gibbs assured him. "Keys."

Tony whimpered in dismay but fished the keys to the Charger out of his pocket, obediently placing them in his father's up-turned palm.

"Get to bed."

Even though he had about 14 years worth of practice getting in trouble with Gibbs, Tony still couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit rejected with the abrupt dismissal.

He couldn't even manage to stay ungrounded for 24 hours. Probaby broke a world record for stupidity.

As if sensing his thoughts, Tony only got about two steps forward before a strong arm pulled him back.

Tony went willingly as his boss pulled him into a brief hug, one strong hand resting on his shoulder and the other one cradling the back of his neck.

"Alright?" Dad murmured

Tony nodded.

"Just tell me one thing," he asked as his father stepped back, "... I'm not in as much trouble as Tim, am I?" .

Dad rolled his eyes.

"Just about."

"Crap."

"Bed."

"Night."

Tony opened his and Tim's bedroom door, managing to feel both incredibly relieved and incredibly anxious all at once. He fell asleep quickly though, because most of all he was exhausted.

* * *

No. Oh no. Not sunlight. Not yet. Shit.

Tim wanted so badly to yank his bedroom curtains close, but he was too nauseous to sit up. Besides he didn't think he'd be able to get his arms to stop shaking for long enough.

Shit.

It was a testament to just how hungover he was that he didn't notice his dad was in the room until the pillow he ducked under for refuge was yanked off of him.

"Up," The older man ordered.

Tim cringed.

Why was Dad yelling? Didn't he know Tim had a heavy metal band playing in his head?

Oh, wait.

Dad knew. Shit.

Tim sat up suddenly, immediately regretting it when his stomach protested.

"Bucket's to your left, Tim," Dad seemed to shout.

Tim leaned over the emptied waste paper basket and swallowed, the line between very nauseous and vomiting paper thin.

It was all coming back to him... sort of. Bits and pieces of last night all equaling up to total embarrassment.

Did he really speak Klingon? God, let that have been a dream. His only consolation was that Dad couldn't possibly make him feel any worse than he did right now.

Thoroughly humiliated, not to mention sick to his stomach, Tim eased himself back into his bed to hide forever. Only to be yanked back up again.

"Oh, no you don't," Dad said very, very loudly, putting a glass of something cold in his hands, "Drink this."

Tim blinked at the water then back up at his father.

"You're dehydrated. Drink."

Tim took a tentative sip and then a healthier gulp. He was thirstier than he thought.

Tim handed the glass back to his dad half full. His stomach wasn't too happy and he didn't want to rock the boat.

Dad pulled a chair out from Tim's desk and sat across from him.

"I need to talk to you."

Tim groaned, covering his face with his hands.

Man, he was such an idiot.

"That's one way to put it."

Tim looked at his father through the cracks of his fingers.

Crap, had he really said that outloud?

"Dad, " Tim started, "I'm so sorry about last night..."

"Oh, you're not sorry yet." Gibbs assured him, "I don't know if you thought I was kidding when I said no drinking, but you're about to find out. I hope last night was worth it."

"It wasn't," Tim mumbled, grabbing a pillow from his bed to cover his ears, "Could you please talk about this later? Or quieter?"

"No," Gibbs answered, easily yanking the pillow out of reach.

"You were old enough to drink last night, you're old enough pull yourself together now and explain what was going through your thick skull."

Tim opened his mouth but for a while no sound would come out.

It was a heck of a lot easier to talk to Dad about drinking when he was drunk.

"I wanted to take Erin to the movies but Tony thought a party would be more fun," He finally stuttered.

"Go on," Gibbs said.

" I really wanted her to have a good time ...She'd brought some stuff from home. I wasn't the only one drinking, Dad, everybody was. 'Cept I was the only that got carried out of the house over his brother's shoulder," Tim finished with a grimace.

"Yeah, I'm sure that impressed her."

Tim dropped his head into his arms.

He'd be lucky if Erin even bothered to sit next to him in Physics class after this. And who knew the amount of embarrassing ammunition Tony had gathered from last night. He was never going to live this down.

"Kill me. Please, kill me." Tim mumbled from behind his hands.

"Remember that you asked for it, " Dad quipped.

Tim chuckled humorlessly

His father leaned forward, effectively putting an end to the teasing banter. Tim gulped.

"Dad, I-"

"If it's another excuse, I don't want to hear it. You're going to close your mouth and listen, Tim, because if I have to say this twice, you're going to wish I'd killed you."

Tim fidgeted in his seat but managed to lift his eyes to somewhere around his dad's shoulder.

"I know you're the youngest in your class. I know it's hard to fit in with kids two and three years older than you. But that's no excuse to act stupid. Going to that party at all, without my permission, was a mistake. It's the same as lying to my face, Timothy, and you know better than that. Don't get me started on the drinking."

"But Gibbs, Tony said-"

"I know what Tony said," Gibbs barked, "Last time I checked Tony doesn't make the rules around here, does he?"

"No, Boss."

"And this, Tim?" Dad gestured towards him, "Is not one drink."

Tim suddenly felt very childish. "Okay! Okay."

"You'd better start using the judgement I know you have," Gibbs warned, " or I won't let you touch a balloon, much less go to any party. We clear?"

"Crystal," Tim answered, ready for all of this to be over, " I'm sorry and it won't happen again, Dad. None of it, I swear."

He was surprised to hear his dad scoff.

"Ya think? " Gibbs snorted, " You don't even have your license yet. I can guarantee you this won't be the dumbest thing you've ever done."

Tim frowned, "But-"

"I'm trying to teach you to use your common sense, Tim. And think before you act. You can do that, can't you?"

"Yeah," Tim mumbled.

"And if you ever find yourself in a jam like last night I want you to- "

"Call you. Or Tony. Even if I'm all the way in Norfolk. Even if it's in the middle of night," Tim recited, "I know, Dad"

"I'd rather drive to at Norfolk three in the morning than bury you, Tim," Gibbs said, " Remember that."

"So you can kick my ass, right?" Tim said sardonically.

"There'll be no questions asked that night," Dad smiled wrly, "but I reserve the right to kick your ass the next morning."

"So..." Tim bit his lip, "What's the verdict, Boss? You going to shoot me? Some type of psychological torture?"

"Nope. Torture session's later," Gibbs answered. " First, you're going to eat breakfast"

"Breakfast?" Tim squeaked, stomach churning at the thought, "can't you just ground me instead?"

"Already did that. Anyway, after breakfast you're going drink two glasses of water and take some aspirin. And then we're going to use my tried and true method for getting rid of a hangover."

"Coffee?" Tim asked hesitantly, his hopes slipping away as his father shook his head.

"Nope." Gibbs said, " You're going to sweat it out."

"Dad," Tim protested, " I can't-"

"You can and you will," Gibbs cut him off, "Some exercise will do you good. A few drills, 20 laps or so and you'll be good as new. Tony's going to help you."

Drills. He should have known.

"But-"

"You can start by cleaning the neighbor's lawn."

Tim groaned. "How'd you find out about that?"

Gibbs held up his newly repaired cell phone. "Early morning wake up call courtesy of Mr. Horn."

Tim flopped back down on the bed, immediately regretting it as the harsh movement jarred his head and twisted his stomach.

This was a nightmare.

"Hey, it could be worse," Dad said as he walked out the door, "I could've buried you under the basement floor."

* * *

A/N: Umm, okay, so there's a quite a few references from the 'real' NCIS that I could have you guys guess at but I'll pick one. There's a certain part of a conversation between Gibbs and one of his kids that's straight from Canon. Which part is it and from what episode? Bonus pts if you can spot any of the other references I made.

I apologize if anything I wrote seemed unlikely or inaccurate. I'm not that familiar with inebriated 15 year olds or parenting said 15 year olds :p


	16. Different

**A/N:** Oh, hi there :) Glad you came back. And if you're new here, thanks for taking a look. This is a series of one shots that jump around in time. Tim and Tony won't always be this young or this old. Congrats to** Feenyfan4ever** (awesome name btw) and** bookwormgirl382** for getting the reference to Revielle in chapter 15.

A big thanks to my betas Ms.** Sweatpeatea** and **Pinkrose14**. This error-prone college student thanks you kindly!

Enjoy!

Tim: 10

Tony: 13

**Warning:** Rated T for naughty language from young mouths. They are at that age :)

Different

Tim threw the soccer ball in the air with the palms of his hands, catching it right before it could land on his head. It was trickier doing it lying down and with the lights out but he didn't want to wake Tony. Tim had been trying for almost two hours but couldn't fall asleep. There was too much to think about.

He was a pretty smart kid. Sometimes, because he was so young, people didn't realize just how smart he was. He noticed a lot, thought about the facts and analyzed things until he'd figured out stuff that adults didn't even know he knew.

That's why it didn't take long for Tim to realize that he and Tony were different. Not different like having blue and green eyes or being short and tall. Really different. In a way he'd always known, but had been too little to really think about.

His brother kept a lunch box filled with granola bars and a bottle of water underneath his bed.

He had that lunch box for as long as Tim could remember - maybe even before that. Heck, Tim remembered having an identical one when he was small because he wanted to be just like Tony. After a while he forgot all about it.

Tony never forgot about his.

It didn't make any sense.

Tim figured if he was hungry he could just go in the kitchen and get an apple or goldfish or Froot by the Foot. There was always food in the refrigerator. It wasn't like they were poor or anything.

Who wanted gross granola bars and warm water?

Once when Tim was seven, he got so angry at Tony's teasing he snuck into that lunch box when his brother wasn't looking and ate one of the bars to get back at him. Tony got really, really upset and Tim got in huge trouble with Daddy for taking something that wasn't his.

At the time, he didn't really think it was that big of a deal. Tony never ate what was inside the stupid lunch box anyway. Every night he opened it up and counted the food but he never put one in or took one out.

When he told Dad this he said having the lunchbox under the bed made Tony feel safe. Tim didn't get what was safe about food, but he didn't think Dad wanted to talk about it anymore so he stopped asking. He never touched Tony's lunch box again. It was still there, though, sititing quietly under the bed in case of ...something.

Tony's nightmares were different too.

When Tim woke up from a bad dream, he would shake and his heart would be thumping but everything around him would be quiet. That's when he knew it was safe. Tony would be sleeping in the other bed across the room and sometimes Tim would crawl in next to him, or if it was a very bad dream, he'd go Dad's. And he'd always fall right back to sleep once he was there.

When Tony had a bad dream he woke the whole house up.

Sometimes, Tony yelled in his sleep and talked to people that weren't there. Sometimes, he cried.

Tim was never sure what to do when Tony had a nightmare because no matter how many times Tim called his name, his brother wouldn't wake up. Dad always came before he could think to do anything. Dad had to hold Tony to stop him from squirming around and say his name over and over until his brother's eyes opened.

Tony never went back to sleep after a bad dream.

Dad would tuck Tim back in and then he'd take Tony downstairs to watch a movie or play a game or something else fun. Without him.

The next day it was like nothing happened, no matter how many times Tim asked about it.

Tony knew all about Tim's dreams but Tony wouldn't tell him anything about his.

Sometimes, _Tim_ couldn't go back to sleep afterwards, having scared himself silly thinking of all the things that could've made Tony so frightened.

Tim tossed the soccer ball again.

It didn't take much to notice there was something wrong with Tony.

Not that Tim cared that Tony had nightmares or kept an extra lunchbox. He didn't, really. What bugged him was that nobody would tell him _why_.

Tim knew all about Jeff and Rachel and how he came to live with Gibbs. He'd seen the albums and got monthly calls from his grandparents down in Florida. He heard the stories so many times he could recite them in his sleep.

But they never talked about Tony's parents or where he came from. Ever.

It was like some big secret between Tony and Dad that Tim wasn't let in on. Probably because they thought he was too young.

He was sick of it.

It's not like he couldn't figure out for himself that there was something different about Tony. And other kids knew it too.

* * *

"Give it back!"

Brent Langer held Tim's soccerball well above his reach.

Tim lept for it but missed spectacularly.

Brent laughed.

"Why don't you make me, Stupid."

Tim thought briefly about running back inside but then he remembered what Dad said about standing up for himself against the older boy.

_This was the sidewalk in front of his own house, on his street and he had every right to play here_, he repeated his father's words to himself.

He had to admit it was much easier to remember that when Brent wasn't around. He was a 7th grader after all.

"'M not stupid, Brent!" Tim tried to speak firmly, "And you'd better give me back my ball."

"I don't have to do nothin'," Brent shot back, "Cry baby."

"I'm gonna tell my big brother," Tim warned, eyeing the older boy warily for his reaction, "He's _13_!"

Usually, that threat alone was enough to get other kids off his back. It never seemed to bother this boy.

"Go ahead an' tell him," Brent scoffed, "He's not even your real brother anyway."

"Yeah, he is! An' when I tell him you have my ball he's gonna give you a black eye," Tim bluffed.

Of course Tony was his brother, Tim thought. They shared a room. They ate breakfast, got in trouble and watched cartoons together. Tony was the one who taught him how to tie his shoes. How to pop a wheelie on his bike. How to spit.

"Then how come you don't look the same?" Brent demanded.

"C-Cause we're adopted... And special!" Tim added as an afterthought.

"Oooh, special," the neighbor kid mocked, "Yeah right. You don't even have real parents. Real dead, maybe."

Tim's face flushed.

Brent always teasing him about that and even though Tim knew it was true, it still made him mad.

"Shut up!" Tim shouted, blinking rapidly to keep any unwanted tears at bay.

"-What's the matter, Squirt?"

He turned around, a smile immediately breaking out on his face at the sight of his older brother standing behind him.

"Brent has my ball!" Tim pointed at the bully indignantly.

"You'd better leave my brother alone," Tony ordered the 7th grader, stepping forward.

"You gonna make me, Loser?" Brent challenged.

"Yeah, I am, Shit head," Tony answered back.

Tim's eyes widened with a mixture of horror and admiration. Those words definitely weren't allowed in their house.

He loved his big brother.

"Crap face!" Brent retaliated

"Butt muncher!" Tony shot back

"Dumbass!"

"Piss licker!"

"Orphan!"

Tim watched as Tony ducked his head. He'd seen Tony do that a thousand times just before he lost his temper.

He started to get nervous. His brother didn't flip out often but when he did...

"Tony, it's okay. I don't want my ball anymore..." he tried to say.

" 'Least my parents aren't divorced!" Tony snapped.

The seventh grader's jaw clenched as he stepped forward to give Tim's brother a small shove.

"Yeah, well, your parents didn't want you or your stupid fake-brother anyway," he sneered.

"That's not true! Shut up about Tim's parents!" Tony yelled, as he shoved back.

"What about your parents? I bet you're one of those nasty foster kids that has to sleep on the floor," Brent jeered.

Tony's fist clenched. "I said, Shut up," he growled.

"And I said make me, you stupid rejec-"

The rest of the older boy's taunt was cut off as Tony tackled him to the ground.

Tim stood frozen as the two boys tussled, punches swinging back and forth. He'd always imagined what it would be like to see Tony clobber Brent but watching it actually happen was kind of scary.

Panicking, did the only thing he could.

"DAD!"

Tim yelled bloody murder as he raced across the yard. His father was out of the house before Tim even got halfway.

Soon Boss managed to lift Tony, still cussing and swinging, off of the older boy.

"Hey! Settle down," Dad ordered but Tony continuted to kick.

"You keep your mouth shut about my family!" Tony cried.

"You're crazy!" their neighbor exclaimed incredulously, hand going immediately to his bleeding lip.

"Go home, Brent," Dad barked as the older boy scrambled up.

He wouldn't set Tony down until the boy was across the street.

"Tony, what is the matter with you?"

His brother didn't answer. He shrugged Dad off, swiping tears away angrily as he marched into the house.

Stooping once to pick up the long forgotten soccer ball, Tim followed quietly behind.

* * *

Tim caught the ball once more, almost dropping it at the sound of the voice across the room.

"I can hear you thinking."

"What?" Tim turned over and squinted in the dark, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's face.

"I said, I can hear you thinking," his brother replied, "That robot brain of yours in working so hard I can see sparks coming out of your ears,"

Tim reached to turn his bedside lamp on but thought better of it. He dropped his head back against his pillow.

"So, what am I thinking about?" he asked.

The dark lump across the room shifted. "You're thinking about earlier today, even though I told you to forget it."

"How can I forget?" Tim defended himself, "You almost punched Brent's face in."

"So? You didn't get ticked off when he was talkin' about your parents like that?"

"Yeah, but-"

"You're my kid brother. I'm not going to let some loser come by and just take your stuff."

"I know, but-"

"Why won't you let it go?" Tony asked exasperatedly, " 'S not like we got in trouble or anything."

Tim sighed.

More surprising than Tony going Hulk was their father's reaction. Dad always said they could defend themselves if they were ever in a fight, but Tony had definitely hit Brent first. Tim expected to have to forfeit his soccer ball at least. He was relieved when they both got off with little more than a scolding, but Tim also knew Dad and Tony talked as soon as he went to shower.

The same as always.

"You and Dad never tell me anything," Tim accused.

"Yeah, that's usually 'cause we can never get a word in edgewise," his brother teased.

"I'm serious," Tim insisted, "You guys think I don't know what's going on. I do. Like today. What were you guys talking about when I got out of the shower?"

"None of your beeswax. What the heck are you yapping about?"

Tim took a deep breath.

"Tony, I - I know something happened to you when you were little. Something bad, but nobody will tell me what. Was it before you got adopted?"

Tony gave a loud snort that sounded forced even to Tim's ears.

"Nothing happened to me. Stop imagining things," he said.

"_Something_ _did_. Dad knows about it,"Tim insisted.

"It's nothing, Timmy."

"Yes, it is."

"_No_, it isn't."

"Alright. Don't tell me. I don't care anymore," he turned away in frustration.

Why did he even try to -

"You're not going to understand," Tony interrupted his thoughts.

"How do you know?" Tim insisted.

"I just do," Tony answered.

"Stop treating me like a little kid!" Tim hissed

"You are a little kid, Squirt," Tony explaned.

"No, I'm not. You can trust me, Tony. Whatever it is, I won't make fun. You know everything about me, anyway... _Please._ I- I keep thinking of all these reasons why. And I'm worried," he plead.

The room was silent for a long time. So long, Tim thought his brother had gone back to sleep before he answered.

"Alright."

"Alright?" Tim echoed blankly.

"If it means I can get some sleep, ask away."

Tim startled, mind freezing up on him as he tried to think of a good enough question. Anxiously he settled on what was buzzing in his mind for the past two hours.

"When Brent said...he said... my parents are dead..."

"You already know that, Tim."

"Yeah, but, I mean, where are yours?" Tim asked quietly.

Across the room, Tim heard Tony click his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

" Let's see. Well, Mom's dead. Or maybe she took off, I don't know. Don't have any living Ants or Uncles. Oh, and my dad's in jail," his brother rattled off.

"Jail?" Tim whispered, "What for?"

"Stole. From a whole lot of people."

Tim stomach dropped.

"Is that what you have nightmares about? Your dad?"

His brother gave a humorless laugh. "No. That happened when I was a baby. I don't even remember him."

Tim let out a silent sigh of relief.

"And Brent said you were a- a foster kid, but that's not true either, right?" Tim asked, confident he already knew the answer this time.

"No. No, that's true," Tony replied succinctly, " I am- was. 'Til I was about six, anyway."

Tim swallowed, his throat tight and aching. Did Tony really have to sleep on the floor?

"Oh."

"Hey, don't start cryin'," Tony consoled him, "I don't even remember most of it."

"But it gives you nightmares," Tim insisted.

" Like I said, most of it's fuzzy. I can really only remember one family now. They were jerks, but they weren't home much anyway. No big deal."

Tim bit his lip as he pieced things together.

"Is that why you keep food under your bed?"

"'Ask something else," Tony ordered abruptly.

"Okay," Tim mumbled, "Sorry."

"Look," Tony sighed, "some houses are better than others, and yeah, sometimes it sucked, but I'm okay now. Boss was my last Foster - Dad."

Tim leaned up on his elbows. "He was?"

"What, didja think he just plucked me off the street?" his brother asked.

"No," Tim answered petulantly, "I just never thought about it. How come he never told me?"

"How should I know? Maybe he thought you already knew," Tony murmured back.

"So, if you weren't a foster kid, you wouldn't be my brother?"

"That's right," Tony confirmed, "Don't let that idiot Brent scare you. It's not all bad."

Tim dropped his bead back onto his pillow.

"...Tony?"

"Yes? More questions, Oh nosy one?"

Tim had a thousand questions. Did Tony ever see his dad? Did he write? Were all his foster homes bad? Why wouldn't he call Dad, dad? What made Tony scream at night?

"Nope. That's it," he answered.

"Lovely. Goodnight, Alice."

Tim fiddled with his blanket, not exactly sure what to do about all that he just heard.

Tony was right but Brent was kind of right too. And that scared him a bit.

"Tony?" he started, " 'M really sorry that-"

"You woke me up? Don't worry about it, Kid," his brother interrupted from underneath his blanket.

"No, Tony, I mean I'm sorry-"

"- that you won't shut your trap so I can get some sleep?" Tony cut him off again.

"Tony-"

One of his brother's pillows flew across the gap and hit him in the forehead.

"Ow?"

"Geez, Tim. It happened years ago. You gonna apologize for the color of the sky next? Get over yourself."

"I was trying to be nice," Tim grumbled, pulling the blanket up over his head.

"Don't," his brother ordered.

"Fine. 'Night then, Slimeball," Tim called over his shoulder as he closed his eyes.

Tony's snort was genuine this time. "'Night, Squirt."

* * *

A/N: I also want to remind readers that Tony's backstory is a special case used for dramatic elements in 'Attaboys'. Yes, there are cases of neglect in the foster care system but it is not the rule. There are also very many loving and supportive foster care families. I by no means want to stereotype the system. Remember that this is from Tim's perspective and that while he might not understand Gibbs or Tony's motives, it doesn't mean they aren't vaild or with good intentions.

I'm thinking this might need a follow up one-shot. What do you think?

This week's question is: In what episode does Brent Langer make an appearence?

Thanks for reading!


	17. Game

A/N: Hi all :3

Congrats to everyone who answered the last chapter's questions correctly. Brent Langer first appeared in episode, 'Tribes' and then reappeared one last time as Spcial Agent Lee's red herring in, 'Last Man Standing.'

Special thanks to my awesome betas **Pinkrose14** and **Sweetpeatea** :)

And now, onto the fic!

Enjoy.

Tim: 10

Tony: 13

Set before, 'Blondie'.

* * *

Game

Thunder crashed and rain pounded the ground outside their kitchen window but Tony paid it no mind. He had bigger things to worry about.

"C'mon, I know you can do it. Don't fail me now, little buddies," he encouraged as he shook his hands together.

There were two sighs from across the table.

"Before Christmas, Tony. Geez."

He ignored them.

"A six. I need a six. Give me a six," he chanted.

"Roll already!" The baby sitter finally snapped.

"Quiet, Kate," Tony said, "This requires concentration."

He let the die rattle around in his fist once more before letting them fly across the board, knocking Tim's marker off the table in the process.

The die stopped.

"Four," Tony announced, frowning.

Tim and Kate laughed.

Tony shrugged. "No, no. I can work with this."

He hopped his piece backwards four spaces and into the Billiard Room.

"Oh, yes. Oh, yes, now we get to the heart of the matter," he declared as he circled the kitchen table, glaring down at the other colored game pieces. "Scared? You should be. I've been chasing your dirt bags for almost 20 minutes. You thought you were in the clear, didn't you? But-"

"Tony!" Kate and Tim shouted over him.

"The answer," he continued, "is obvious. Mr. Green tied poor, helpless Mr. Body to a kitchen chair while his accomplice, Mrs. Scarlet, beat the victim to death with the candle stick. You were hoping to cash in early on his life insurance policy, weren't you, Scarlet? We have motive and opportunity."

"Tony," Kate interrupted, "for the last time, you can't make a suggestion for the Kitchen if your player is in another room."

"And it can't possibly be Mr. Green _and_ Mrs. Scarlet," Tim insisted, "stop suggesting it!"

Tony circled the table once more, tapping a finger to his chin.

"You may be right, Detective Squirt," he nodded, "All this empty space, weapons lying around in plain sight. This crime scene's been contaminated. Mrs. Scarlet's fingerprints on the candle stick might be circumstantial. What if she's being set up? This is starting to look like an inside job."

He squatted down to eye level with the yellow marker. "I'm on to you, Colonel Mustard."

Kate groaned.

"Do you have a real suggestion or not?"

Tony pouted. "Where's your imagination?"

"Wait, Guys," Tim interjected, staring intently at his notepad, "I think I know the answer. No, wait... hold on..."

"It's called following the rules of the game, Tony," Kate retorted.

"Whatever," Tony slapped his cards down and got up from the table. "I don't want to play anymore. This is boring."

"You can't stop playing," Tim called after him, "the game'll be ruined."

"So what? We all know it's Mrs. White with the lead pipe in the Library. Game over."

"Yeah right," Kate snorted while Tim squinted at his notes.

"Actually, I think he's right, Kate," his little brother said.

Their baby sitter snatched up the envelope and tipped out the missing cards. They all stared disbelievingly at the small pile.

"Cool. I win. Can we do something else now?" Tony asked hopefully.

"Oh, I don't believe this," Kate fumed, "Three games in a row. How do you keep doing that?"

He gave the 18 year old a sly grin. "I'm an investigator, Kate."

"You cheated," Kate accused.

"Excuse me? I believe it was my turn last. And since you both said my original suggestion didn't count..."

"You did say that, Kate," Tim chimed.

"Fine, you win," Kate huffed as they cleaned up the pieces, "Now what?"

"We could play Monopoly," Tim suggested.

"No more board games," Tony grimaced. "Let's watch a movie."

"How to Lose A Guy in Ten Days!"

Both boys stared at their sitter.

"Mushy romance stuff, Kate? I don't think so. We're watching Charlie's Angels," Tony stated.

"Sexist, Macho-man action flick, Tony?" Kate countered, "How about a comedy?"

"Nah."

"Can we watch Shrek again?" Tim asked hopefully.

"NO."

Thunder cracked unexpectedly, making the three of the jump.

Tony caught Kate's eye and pointed out the window.

"Horror movie! It's perfect weather for it."

"Freddy vs. Jason?" Kate asked

"You know it," he grinned.

That was one thing he and Kate could agree on. There was nothing like a good slasher flick.

"Cool," Tim exclaimed.

Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow at his little brother. Timothy Gibbs and scary movies did not mix.

"We should probably put the kid to bed before we start it," Kate told him.

"What do you mean 'we'? I'm not the babysitter," Tony scoffed as he put the packed Clue box in the game cupboard.

"How come I have to go to bed? I want to watch," Tim protested from his side of the table.

"Tim, I've already let you stay up a half hour later than you were supposed to. Do you want your dad to kill me?" Kate reasoned.

"Dad's at work, he won't be back forever," Tim argued.

"I hope he's back sooner than that. I have a date tonight," Kate looked out the kitchen window.

"Hope you're not going for a walk in the park," Tony quipped.

"Very funny."

"_Please_, Kate. I won't get scared," Tim begged.

"Yes, you will," Tony snorted.

"_No_," his brother glared at him, "I watched it with you before."

"Yeah, and you hid under a blanket the entire time."

"Why don't I put Shrek on for you upstairs in your dad's room, Tim?" Kate tried to mediate.

Tim crossed his arms, "I'm staying down here."

"There's gonna be lot's of blood," Kate warned.

"I don't care," his little brother replied

"And dead bodies..."

"I don't. Care."

"Fine. You can watch," Tony acquiesced, making Tim cheer, "But don't come crying to us when you wet your shorts."

"Will not," his brother shot back petulantly as he dived for the couch.

Kate shrugged and shook her head as if to say, '_why do I even bother?_'

"Let me find the DVD," She grumbled.

Thunder shook the sky and a streak of lightning flashed across their window.

Then everything went black.

"Woah."

"Kate?" Tim squeaked, "Tony?"

"Do you like scary movies, Tim?"

"Tony!" Kate yelled, "turn the light back on."

Tony laughed as the room brightened immediately.

"Told you you'd wet your shorts. The movie hasn't even started yet, Timmy-Terrified," he taunted.

"You're not funny," Squirt pouted.

"Yeah, I am," he laughed as he flopped down on the couch beside his sibling.

"This is why your dad doesn't let you baby-sit," Kate admonished.

He stuck his tongue out at her and she returned the gesture.

"Don't worry, Tim," Kate gave him one armed hug as she settled into her own spot,"Well watch the movie with the lights on."

"Aw, come on..."

"You're the one who made him scared, Tony."

"I'll make popcorn!" Tim offered, jumping up.

"Don't forget the soda!" Tony called after him as he pressed the play button.

Freddie cackled menacingly.

They didn't get halfway through the opening credits before everything went dark again.

"Nice try, Squirt," Tony yelled as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, "But if you're going to prank me back could you at least try to be original?"

"It wasn't me," Tim's shaky voice traveled back from the kitchen.

"It couldn't have been him, Tony," he heard Kate's voice beside him, "The TV and DVD player shut off too. Must be a power outtage."

"It is raining pretty hard," Tony allowed.

He could still hear the storm raging outside their windows, rain dropping so fast it sounded almost like a motor, but couldn't see 2 feet infront of his own face

He yelped as something suddenly grabbed him around the middle. It took him a moment to realize it was Tim.

"Get off of me," Tony grunted.

"Sorry," his little brother mumbled, "Couldn't see where I was going."

He was about to respond when they heard a loud, sharp noise at the living room window.

"Did you guys here that?" he turned blindly in the direction of the sound.

"Is that knocking?" Kate asked aloud.

"I dunno. Go find out," Tony directed.

"Me? Why don't you find out? It's your house," Kate argued.

"You're the babysitter," Tony exclaimed.

The knocking persisted

"Maybe it's Freddy," Kate teased

Tony smirked, "Hmmm, now that I think about it, it does kind of sound like metal claws scraping against the-"

"Stop it, Guys," Tim whined.

"Better hope it's not a machete," Kate said.

They laughed.

Tony heard Kate stumbled carefully to the window. "Oh, Jason," she called.

"Kate!" Tim clutched Tony's arm tighter, "Don't."

"Relax,Tim," their babysitter called over to them, "We're only teasing you. I don't see anyone outside. It was probably branches snapping against the windows, that's all."

The knocking sound had stopped.

"Yeah, Squirt. It's only the storm...or a blood thirsty killer, you know how it goes," Tony joked.

He tried to stand up but his brother was still firmly attached to him.

"Where are you going?" the squirt whispered.

"To get flashlights." He tried to tug his arm out of Tim's grip but his brother held firm.

"You can't leave me and Kate here. What if Freddy comes?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud- c'mon." Blindly,Tony tugged them both up.

"You comin', Kate?" he asked.

No answer.

"Kate?"

"Right here!"

Tony jumped and turned around, almost tripping Tim up in the process.

Kate smirked at them, her face illuminated by the soft, blue light of her cellphone.

"Don't do that," Tony hissed, his heart still beating wildly.

"You weren't scared, were you, Tony?"

Tim snickered.

"_No_," he muttered, "Flashlights are in the hallway closet. C'mon."

He stumbled foward, Tim clutching the back of his shirt and Kate leading with the cellphone light.

Although his eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark, he was still left to grope furniture and the edges of walls to keep himself steady- the squirt kept stepping on the backs of his shoes and that didn't help any.

They made their way past the laundry room to the hall closet.

"Here," he said when his hands finally found the necessary supplies, "Rule number 9. Always keep a light handy."

He passed them out and three beams of dull yellow light materialized simultaneously.

Tim sighed in relief while he and Kate exchanged concerned glances.

"Should we find the fuse box?" Tony suggested.

He had no idea what to do with the fuse box once they found it but it seemed like the right move.

"No, I think the whole neighborhood lost power," Kate replied, "Even the street lights were out when I looked."

His little brother shuddered and grabbed onto him, his steam of light wavering against the hallway wall.

"Tony, Freddy can't cut power, can he?" Tim asked timidly.

"Freddy only comes when you're dreaming, goofus," He made bunny ears on the wall behind his brother's head.

"Jason then," Tim looked around nervously.

"They're not real, Tim," Kate reassured him, "Nothing is going to-"

The rest of her statement was cut off by a sharp knock at the front door.

All three pointed their flashlights towards the living room.

"Again with the knocking?" Tony questioned.

"Maybe it's a neighbor?" Kate looked at him.

"What if it's Jason," Tim whispered.

Tony pulled the boy to him."Breathe, Squirt. It's probably Mr. Horn coming to check on us."

The knocking continued.

"I'll answer it," Kate decided, fumbling back towards living room.

He started after her.

"Wait, Tony, don't leave," Tim cried.

"Then come with me," he said.

"'M too scared," his brother gulped.

"You're alright, Squirt. Stay put, keep the flashlight on. I'll be back in a sec."

Tony shuffled after Kate, leaving Tim still frozen in hallway.

"Kate!" he reached her just as her hand touched the doorknob," Are you crazy?Thunderstorm, power outage, mysterious knocking? This is like Slasher Flick 101."

"I was going to check through the peephole first, Tony, I'm not stupid. What if it's your dad back from work?" she challenged.

"Why would Boss knock at his own front door?" he shot back.

'They' knocked again.

"Uh, Who is it?" Tony demanded, "Identify yourself."

There was no answer.

"Hello?" Kate tried, "Mr. Horn?"

Nothing.

There were a few more sharp knocks before it suddenly stopped.

They waited a few moments before Kate cautiously checked through the peephole.

"I don't see anyone," she whispered.

"Maybe they left?" Tony whispered back.

"Put the chain on the door just in case," Kate directed. He did.

"This is getting really creepy," Kate said.

"Okay, Tony think," he murmured to himself, "This is just a giant game of Clue."

"It's not a game, Tony-"

"Shush! Now, it's obviously someone we know trying to mess with us. If it were a real burglar they would've come in and killed us already. I mean, the door was unlocked."

"Great," Kate deadpanned.

"Unless, he's one of those serial killers that likes to hunt his victims before he butchers them," he gulped.

"I doubt that anyone-"

"Oh, crap," he slapped his hand against his forehead, "I left Tim alone. Horror Movie Rule number 1: Never split up."

"Then it's a good thing this is real life," Kate nodded condescendingly. "Let's go get your brother before he faints."

"Hey, Squirt. Tim?" Tony called out as he edged his way around the living room couch.

There was no answer.

"Tim?" Kate called louder.

"Kid, stop playing around now or you're in trouble. Big time," Tony warned as he passed the closet and the laundry room, looking around.

Where was-

"TONY!"

Tim's yell scared him so badly Tony almost dropped his flashlight.

His brother popped from behind the dryer and raced towards them, his flashlight bopping up and down as he ran. "Someone was knocking at the back door!"

"Who?"

"I dunno," Tim cried as he latched on to him, "I heard a noise and I went to go see and I think I saw somebody there. I hid."

"Why didn't you say anything? Yell for help?"

"I was too scared," Tim bit his lip before practically yanking him down to the end hallway.

The three of them stopped just short of the back door. Immediately there was an almost frantic rapping at the glass pane.

"See?" Tim pointed.

"Who's there?" Kate called out.

No answer.

"Alright, _Abby_," Tony yelled, "We know it's you. You had your fun, come on out."

There was a loud thump against the door.

"I don't think it's Abby, Tony," Tim shook his head.

The door knob rattled.

The trio screamed.

Tony dropped his flashlight, grabbing his brother by one arm and Kate by the other and scrambled back to the living room.

They ducked behind the dark form of the couch.

"'S okay," Kate panted, "that door's definitely locked. Nobody can get in."

"We should hide in the basement until Boss comes home," Tony said.

Angry shouts were now audible over the fierce wind.

Tim started crying quietly into his shoulder. "I want Dad."

Tony flinched as he heard heavy footsteps coming up the front steps.

"That's it. I'm calling the police," Kate decided, opening her cellphone once more.

Suddenly, bright light flooded the living area and the sounds of their horror film blasted from the television speakers.

The door flew open.

They screamed.

"Is everyone okay?" asked the big man in the doorway .

"Boss!" Tony practically cried with relief.

"Dad!" His little brother sobbed, running towards their father but stopping short when he caught sight of the boy Boss was holding up by the collar.

"Do any of you know who this joker is?" Gibbs asked, giving the teenager's leather jacket a rough tug, "I saw him running around out back."

Tony did. The older brother of the new girl in school. He'd seen him pick her up from time to time.

"That's my boyfriend," Kate answered before he could, "he was supposed to pick me up here tonight."

Boss let the kid go abruptly, turning to comfort a still shivering Tim.

"Ari, you idiot," Kate scolded the older boy,"that was you knocking on the doors? You scared the heck out of us. What's the matter with you?"

Ari chuckled as she punched him on the arm, "Sorry, Caitilin. It was only a joke."

"I almost shot in you in back tonight, Ari. You think that's funny?" Boss snapped, Tim still buried in the man's overcoat.

"I apologize, officer-"

"Agent. Gibbs," his father growled.

"Agent Gibbs. I was mearly playing a harmless joke on Caitlin and her friends. I didn't mean to frighten anyone."

"Motive and opportunity," Tony nodded to himself.

"You cut the power off?" Tim sniffled at the older boy.

"The entire neighborhood was blacked out until about a minute ago, Tim. Ari here, just likes to play in the dark," Boss answered.

The boyfriend glanced at Gibbs but didn't comment, turning to their sitter instead.

"Are you ready, Caitlin? The film starts in half an hour."

"I need to talk to you," Boss interrupted, pointing at Kate. "You," he directed at Ari, "can wait outside."

"In this downpour, Agent Gibbs?" the boy questioned.

"Didn't seem to bother you before," Boss replied before practicaly pushing the boy out the door, "Go wait by your damn motor bike."

Boss shut the door and turned towards the three of them, eyes set on their babysitter. Tony looked from Boss to Kate to Boss again.

_Uh oh_, he gulped, _this could get ugly_.

"Boys, bed," their father ordered.

Tony's face scrunched in dismay.

_What? Now? Just when it was getting good?_

"But Boss-"

"Dad, I want to stay with you," Tim plead.

"I'll be up in a minute. Scoot," Gibbs said, the expression on his face brooking no argument.

Tony clambered up the steps obediently but instead of heading towards their bedroom, he took an immediate right for the upstairs bathroom. Specifically, the vent in the upstairs bathroom. His little brother followed close behind.

"Hey, move over! I want to listen too," Tim thumped his fists against Tony's back.

"Shut up, I can't hear," he hissed, pressing his ear to the cool air duct.

"What's he saying?" Tim squatted down next to him.

"Says Kate shouldn't hang around guys like Ari... Kate's saying her parents met him and think he's great...Boss says he doesn't trust him...Kate's 18 and can take care of herself... Ooh, Boss said he doesn't want Ari near the house..."

"Well, what did Kate say?" Tim asked after a moment.

"I don't know. I can't hear anymore."

Tony sat up, "The door closed. I think Kate left."

"That Ari guy's a real creep," Tim glowered.

"He's a good prankster, I'll give him that," Tony admitted.

"I hope Kate gets rid of him."

"Yeah," Tony agreed but he couldn't resist teasing his brother anyway, "You're just saying that 'cause you were scared."

"I was not!" Tim started, "Well, maybe, but you were scared too!"

"Not as scared as you! Shakin' like a leaf."

"Me? You were screaming like a little girl."

"Thought I told the two of you to go to bed," Gibbs stood behind them.

_How did he get up here so fast? _Tony thought incredulously.

"Uh, I," he stuttered, scrambling to his feet.

"It was Tony's idea," Tim blurted as he stood behind him.

Boss nodded his head towards the doorway, "Out."

Tony and Tim moved quickly, ducking their heads out of the line of fire.

"The boyfriend. How could I have missed it? It's so obvious," Tony lamented once they'd gotten into bed.

"It's usually the last person you suspect," their dad commented standing up from Tony's bed and ruffling his hair.

"It was crazy scary, Dad," his little brother piped up, "I thought it might've been Freddy and Jason trying to come an'-"

"Freddy and Jason? Who let you watch that movie?" Boss interrupted.

Tony shook his head frantically from behind their father's back.

"Uh," Tim swallowed, "nobody."

"Uh huh," Gibbs looked unconvinced, "Well, nobody comes into my house uninvited, so don't worry about either one of them, alright, Tim?"

"'Okay, Dad," Tim murmured, turning to his side pulling the comforter over his head.

Gibbs walked to the door.

"Boss?" Tony whispered once the man turned off the lights.

"What's up?" the big man asked from the doorway.

"Kate- I mean, everything's alright, right?" Tony stared down at his blanket, " I didn't want to worry the squirt or anything but, that guy..."

Boss rubbed a hand over his head before speaking quietly.

"She'll be fine. Kate can take care of herself, Bud. And we'll watch her six, right?"

"Right," Tony answered dutifully, trying hard to ignore the rain that continued to fall heavily against his bedroom window and his friend, who was still riding around in it.

* * *

A/N: Just in case you were wondering I don't own Clue (the game or the copy right), How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, Charlie's Angles, Shrek, Freddy vs. Jason or Scream.

This chapter's question: In canon, what is Ari's Bete Noir?


	18. Stage Fright

A/N:Hi all :)

Congratulations to alix33, Veryfairygirl14, power214063, The Lady Grace, crs529, and wandamarie for getting the last chapter's question right. Ari is afraid of butterflies (teehee).

Just in case you're new to this story or don't remember, this is a series of one shots in an AU that jump around in time. Tim and Tony won't always be this young or this old.

A special thanks to my betas **Ms. Sweetpeatea** and **Pinkrose14**. *Hugs*

Now, on to the fic!

I don't own NCIS or the poem, 'Five Little Pumpkins'.

Tim: Age 6

Tony: Age 9

Stage Fright

"Five little pumpkins, sitting on a gate. The first one said..." Tim frowned, eyes drifting upward as if the answer were written on the living room ceiling.

"The first one said..."

"- Oh, my. It's getting late," Dad supplied from the couch, reading off the crinkled paper in his hand.

"Right. Oh, my, it's gettin' late," Tim repeated. He blew out a puff of air, making the hair in front of his face ruffle.

"Nervous, Tim?" Dad asked

"Every time I try to say the poem, I forget a littl' more," he fidgeted, pulling on the sleeves of his costume.

Why did Ms. Kyle have to pick _him_ to be the leader of their class' presentation?

There were only five pumpkins picked to present the poem. Five. All the other first graders got to sing a song about Thanksgiving turkey. Why couldn't he be in that group? No one would've been able to hear his voice with forty other kids around him. Tim liked that.

Mannie Hernandez was a much better speaker than he was, and _he_ didn't get nervous talking in front of big crowds like Tim did. Why not make _him_ first pumpkin at the Landry Elementary Fall Pageant?

"You'll do fine," Dad said,

"But I got the first lines," Tim tugged at the orange felt again, "if I mess up then the whole poem'll be ruined."

Dad tugged him forward. Tim leaned heavily against the big man's knees.

"You know all the words, you just have to relax," Dad said as he tugged the leaf shaped hat over his ears.

"I guess," Tim mumbled.

The butterflies in his stomach disagreed.

"Tony," Dad called out, "Let's get a move on. It's almost 7:30."

Tim's brother trudged into the room, tugging at the collar of his black button down shirt. "Do I really gotta wear this?"

"Yes, you really gotta wear that. Paper says so," Dad replied.

"I look like a major dork," Tony sulked.

Tim pointed at his brother. "'Least you don't have to dress like a pumpkin."

Every year a handful of fourth and fifth graders got to act as stage crew, helping the teachers with the younger kids behind the scenes. Tony was one of the lucky ones. He didn't even have to be on stage.

"That's what you get for bein' in the first grade," Tony shook his head, "I had to do it when I was six. It's your turn now."

"'Bet you didn't have to say a poem," Tim grumbled.

"Revenge!" Tony cackled, "Sweet revenge!"

"Are we all set?" Dad pulled on his coat and pocketed the car keys.

"Ready," Timmy answered shakily

"Can I _please_ change my shirt?" Tony begged one last time.

Daddy rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, boys. First one to the car picks what's on the radio."

Tony and Tim both ran to the Charger, knowing that if their dad got there first they'd be riding in silence.

"Dad, what are the pumpkins sitting on again?" Tim asked for the second time as they rode along, Monster Mash playing softly in the background.

"A gate," Tony answered dully. "Boss, you'd better slow down. The Squirt looks like he's about to hurl."

"I don't wanna do this," Tim whined, holding his churning stomach, "Everybody's going to be watchin' me. What if I fall or get hiccups or somethin'?"

"I'll be sitting right up front, Timmo," Dad jerked the car to the right, "look at me if you get nervous."

Tim bit his lip. He wasn't sure if looking at his dad would help or make him even more scared.

"I got somethin' better than that," his brother proclaimed, "Underwear!"

"Underwear?"

Tim couldn't help but giggle. He imagined walking on stage with a pair of stripped boxer briefs and waving them at the crowd.

"See, when you're on stage and everyone's staring at you," Tony explained, "you pretend like they're all sitting in their underwear and it makes you not scared anymore."

Tim shook his head, "That's dumb."

"Nuh-uh. It really works. Doesn't it, Boss?" Tony poked their father in the back.

"For some people," Dad answered as they pulled into the school parking lot.

_Five little pumpkins, sitting on a crate, _Tim thought to himself.

_No,_ _wait. It's gate. Five lil' pumkins, sitting on a gate and the first one said... _

_Uh oh. _

_What did the first one say again?_

Before he could figure out his next line Tim and his family were in middle of the school auditorium. The room was buzzing with the excited chatter of 200 K through 5th graders.

Tony ran backstage to join his buddies but Tim hung back, looking around at the growing crowd of parents.

"Daddy," he tugged on his father's sleeve, "Can't we get someone else to be the first pumpkin? I can sit with you in the audience an' keep you company."

Dad crouched down resting his hands on Tim's shoulders.

"You could," the big man started, "but I'd be a little disappointed, Tim. I came all the way here to see you preform."

"I can't do it. I don't remember the words," Tim's eyes shone brightly.

"Listen to me," Dad spoke firmly, "You're not going to get anything done if you keep psyching yourself out."

Tim scuffed his sneaker against the linoleum floor,

"What does 'psychin' mean?"

"It means it's all in your head, Kid, " Dad tapped his knuckles against Tim's skull, "We practiced that poem all week, didn't we?"

Tim nodded, "Yeah, but-"

"No buts," Dad said, "Stop telling yourself you can't do it and start saying that you're going to do great."

"But-"

"Go ahead, say it."

Tim looked at his father pleadingly. Dad raised an eyebrow. Tim sighed.

"...I'm gonna do great?" he tried.

Dad shook his head. "No. See, that sounds like a question. When you're great there's no question about it. Try again."

Tim nodded.

"I'm going to do great," he repeated, louder.

"That's better," Boss smirked. He tapped Tim lightly underneath his chin.

Tim smiled back at him hesitantly.

"Timothy Gibbs, we need you backstage," Ms. Kyle called out from across the room.

He blew out another rush of air. "Alright. I'll do it."

"Attaboy," Dad praised, giving him a gentle push in the direction of his waiting teacher.

Backstage was even more crowded than the front and Tim stood huddled with the other first grade pumpkins hand picked for the assignment, all waiting for their turn.

_I'm gonna do great_, he kept repeating to himself, _I'm gonna do great._

But, what if he didn't do great? What if he just did _good_? Dad was expecting great.

Was everyone expecting great? What if he didn't do a good enough job?

_Dad just wants me to do the best I can, _He tried to reassure himself. _I hope_.

"Hiya, Timmy!" a cheeful voice yanked him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, Abby," he managed to say.

"You'll never guess what I am," the third grader twirled in place.

Tim took in the glossy red and yellow costume, complete a pointed blade at one end and a stem at the other. "A leaf?"

"A maple leaf," Abby corrected him, "I'm losing my chlor-o-phyll. We're doing a skit about changing leaves."

"Oh," Tim's eyes traveled to the stage where the kindergardeners were singing a song about Trick-or- Treating.

"Don't be nervous, Timmy," Abby wrapped an arm around him, "Half those people don't even know who you are."

Tim blinked. "Hey, you're right."

She thumped him on the arm, "'Course I am. If you mess up, they'll only remember you as that goofy kid in the first grade poem. They can't spread your name around or anything."

Tim's heart started beating faster, his throat tightened.

"Abby," he groaned.

"You're welcome," Abby grinned.

Applause errupted from outside the curtain. Several kindergarteners took uncoordinated bows.

"And now," the vice principal announced, "We'll have a very special poem recited by a few gifted members of our first grade class."

There was more clapping.

"Break a leg," his friend called cheerfully before running back to the third grade group.

Tim tried to swallow.

"Let's go, children. Remember where you're supposed to stand," Ms. Kyle whispered as they began to file out. "Tim, don't forget your mike."

He could hear the audience 'awww' as they began to take center stage.

His legs wobbled like Jello as he stepped out into the bright lights and cooler air. The microphone almost slipped out of his sweaty grip.

_'M going to do great. 'M going to do great. 'M going to do great..._

It felt as though there were fifty pound weights attached to his feet as he moved up to his spot.

4 more pumpkins fell in line behind him.

_'M goin' to do great._

All the eyes of all of the parents in the entire school fell upon him and he searched frantically for his dad's face.

_'M goin' to do great. Great. _

Dad nodded at him from the middle seat in the front row.

He tried again to swallow.

_I'm going..._

The intro music started.

"Now," His teacher whispered from off stage.

Tim nodded and opened his mouth.

And moved his mouth.

And no sound came out.

No sound.

No sound was coming out.

_He couldn't speak. Why couldn't he speak?_

The intro music started again but the most he got out the second time around was a small squeak.

The other pumpkins began to whisper behind him.

"Five little pumpkins," his teacher hissed.

Tim shook his head at her with panicked eyes.

He remembered the words, he just couldn't say them!

Desperate, he looked around at the crowd for their reaction, but it only made things worse. They were murmuring amongst themselves, waiting for Tim to do _something._

Dad was mouthing words to him, but he couldn't undestand what he was saying.

Kids from the other grades crowded around the wings of the stage, hoping to get a better look at the trouble.

Tim trembled.

He was seconds away from fleeing when another voice called to him.

"Hey! Tim!" came a mock whisper from the wing to his right.

He ignored it, deciding then to close his eyes and wish the entire auditorium gone.

"Tim! SQUIRT," Tony called louder, over sharp 'shhhhs' and 'quiets' from the other students and teachers, "TIM!"

Tim's flushed face flushed more. He was pretty sure the whole auditorium could hear Tony now.

"TIMOTHY!"

He snapped his head towards the older boy.

_What? _he mouthed.

His brother beamed, happy to have finally caught his attention.

"UNDERWEAR!"

Tony's voice echoed across the stage.

"THINK ABOUT UNDERWEAR!"

There was a moment of silence before everyone under the age of 9 burst into hysterical laughter. The audience joined in after a beat, glad for tension breaker.

Tim giggled, the focus was finally taken off of him.

He looked around at his classmates, who were all clutching their sides, to the audience who were doing their best to hide their smiles.

Tony was now doing an underwear dance.

Underwear! It was pretty funny.

Now, what were the words again? Oh yeah.

"5 little pumpkins, sitting on a gate," Tim recited into the microphone as everyone settled down, " the first one said, 'Oh, my, it's getting late'."

Quickly passing the microphone to the next speaker, he stepped back, helping the rest of his fellow pumpkins to and act out the rest of the poem.

The second one said, 'I see witches in the air.'

The third one said, ' But we don't care.'

The fourth one said, 'Let's run and run and run.'

The fifth one said, "Get ready for some fun."

"Woosh went the wind and out went the light. And five little pumpkins rolled out of sight!" Tim finished with the rest of his group.

A thunderous round of applause met the end of their performance. Tim beamed.

With one last wave to his father, he 'rolled' off the stage with the rest of the troop.

"I knew you could do it, Tim. You did great!" Ms. Kyle cheered as he tore past her.

He barely noticed.

"Tony!" he ran towards his brother and the teacher scolding him, interrupting the reprimand by hugging the nine year old around the waist, "It worked! The underwear really worked!"

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

A/N: I want to let the readers know that future chapters may deal with the death of one or more characters. I apologize for not putting it in the Author's note at the beginning of this story. I initially didn't want to give anything away about the backstory etc for 'Attaboys' but I think it's only fair to let readers know what they're getting into.

On the plus side it's a series of one shots so you can still enjoy the story even if you skip those particular chapters.

Okay, back to the happy :)

This chapter's question: Does McGee wear boxers or tighty whities? ;)

You might have to go back to your DVDs for this one, folks.

See you next time!


	19. Sad

A/N: Hi . Sorry. And that's all I have to say about that.

McGee wears boxers and tighty whities. If you don't remember why that's relevant please refer to the second to last chapter. Congrats to everyone who answered correctly :)

This is unbeta'd and probably a little… no a lot sloppy, but hopefully everyone enjoys it anyway.

Tony: Age 5

Tim: Age 2

Sad

He didn't want to go back out there.

There were too many people standing in their living room, talking in sad voices about sad things.

He'd cried a whole lot when Boss told him Uncle Jeff had an accident and wasn't coming back. He'd even caught Boss crying a little bit too. That was days and days ago. Now seeing all the sad people was reminding him to be sad and Tony didn't like it. And he really didn't like Boss being sad either.

So he hid. And he was gonna stay hid until all the sad people were gone.

He watched as black shoes click-clacked, shuffled and stomped back and forth. Tony slid further back into the corner.

Two pairs of shoes stopped in front of his hiding place.

"We put ourselves in line to get shot or blown up every day. Never thought a drunk driver would take Jeffery McGee out." One pair of loafers said to another.

"Thank God the baby wasn't in the car. It's shame, though, to lose both parents like that. Kid's not even going to remember them." The other pair sighed.

Tony listened until he was sure the shoes had walked away before reaching out from underneath the table cloth, feeling around for whatever food he could get his hands on.

He wished the sad people would _go away_. It was Sunday. Him and Boss and Uncle Jeff always watched football on Sunday. But they couldn't anymore. Uncle Jeff and Aunt Rachel were gone like the first Mommy Tony ever remembered having. He remembers it well because it was the first time he ever had to move too. Boss told him he wouldn't have to move this time though, and Boss kept his promises so Tony was staying, even if he had to stay under this stuffy old table until all the sad people went away and stopped talking about Uncle Jeff bein' dead.

He wished the man was here instead of in Heaven. He'd make all the sad people watch football and cheer up.

Suddenly, the table cloth was yanked up, and light flooded his hiding spot. Tony scooted back.

"Oh, for goodness sake," huffed a woman from Boss' job. "Come out from under there, Tony."

She didn't give him a chance to comply, pulling him out by the arm.

"Your father has been looking for you…and your clothes are filthy. You're not making this day any easier for him, are you?" The woman scolded as she batted the dirt off of his suit

"This is Gibbs' boy?" Asked a man who wore a suit that matched Tony's.

"Yes, hiding under the refreshments. You'll have to excuse the boy, Andrew," The woman responded. "Gibbs took him off the street over a year ago but he's still a bit of a problem child."

Tony scowled, scuffing his black shoe against the floor.

He wasn't sure what a 'problem child' was but he'd heard it enough times in his life to know it wasn't something good. He'd had to move more than once because of it. But he wasn't moving this time, Boss said. Even if someone did go to heaven. Besides, he didn't see any other children here, problem or no. He was still staying, right?

He spotted his boss over in the corner by the kitchen door, arguing with two older people. Maybe if he heard what the mean lady was saying, Boss would make everyone go home.

"I know Gibbs and McGee were partners, but I think he's being completely irrational." The woman was saying.

The man took a sip of his drink. "They gave him custody, Marcela. You know the Gunny isn't going to take that lightly. Semper Fi and all that."

"Yes, but does he have any idea how hard it is to take care of two boys?" She hissed, "Alone? I have a hard enough time of it with half my ex's paycheck. Suppose he wanted to get married and have some real children one of these days? Show me a woman who would gladly tack herself onto to that train wreck…"

"Hey! My Boss don't wreck trains!" Tony interrupted the pair, face flushed with anger, "'M gonna tell im you said that!"

He ran towards the kitchen door. The closer he got the louder the voices of his Boss and the older man grew.

"You're an idiot, Gibbs, if you think I'm going to let you just take my grandson," the man shouted, flecks of spit flying from his mouth and onto the hardwood floor.

Boss didn't look sad anymore. He looked mad.

"With all due respect, Mr. McGee, I think I know a hell of a lot more about what your grandson needs than you do," The big man shot back. "How many times have you actually seen Tim in person? Two? Three?"

"Geroge, Jethro, would you please keep your voices down! You both promised you'd be reasonable about this," a woman stood in between them. "George, I know it's hard, but we can we run after a two year old at our age?"

"We can sure as heck try. We're the only blood he has left!"

Tony slowed his steps cautiously as he approached the raised voices, grasping onto his Boss' pant leg as soon as he was within reach.

"Boss," he tugged on the fabric to get the man's attention, "Boss, the Probies were tellin' fibs 'bout you an' Uncle Jeff." He pointed at the mean lady and Andrew.

Boss looked down at him with tired eyes and a frown. "Not now, Tony. Where've you been? We were looking everywhere for you."

"See that, Penny? Do you see that?" the older man interrupted, "The man can't even keep track of the kid he has."

The hand Gibbs put on Tony's shoulder was so tight it almost hurt.

"Watch it. You know nothing about me or my son," his boss growled.

Tony swallowed. He didn't like this conversation. He didn't like that man yelling at his Boss. Was it because of Uncle Jeff? Were they trying to take Tony away again? Maybe he really did have to move?

"We can talk about this another time," the woman hissed, "You're both upset, people are staring and you're going to wake up the baby. Now the boy can stay with us at least until-"

"He's staying with me." Boss said firmly. "Period."

"Not before I see you in court," the man growled. "You can use the Will and your Fed status to strong arm your way into custody now, but it's not going to last. He'll be living with us."

Tony wrenched out of Gibbs' grip, tears welling in his eyes.

"No!" He shouted at the man and his wife. "Ï'm not goin'! I don't wanna move!"

"Tony-"

He turned to Gibbs, pointing an accusatory finger. "You said I didn' haveta! You promised!"

Tears clouding his vision Tony ran away from the kitchen and the voices calling after him, not stopping until he was safely shut behind his bedroom door.

He made a move to grab his covers and hide under the bed but stopped short at the sight of a sleeping baby in the middle of his mattress.

The problem child.

Chest puffing up in anger, Tony walked forward and poked the toddler in the side. Hard.

"This is_ my_ bed!" he cried.

The kid blinked awake sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Toey," the baby answered back sleepily, slipping down from the bed and onto his bottom with a thump. Tony looked down at him suspiciously.

"You're Uncle Jeff and Aunt Rachel's baby," Tony recognized with a frown. "Ï play at your house sometimes."

" I p'ay, Toey," the toddler nodded, picking up one of Tony's stray blocks. Tony immediately snatched it back, pushing the child away from his things.

"I knew it! No, you can't have my toys- and you can't have my house neither," Tony's breath hitched. "You-You're gonna make me hafta leave! You an' Uncle Jeff an' Aunt Rachel. Leave me alone, go back to your own house!"

The baby's lip wobbled and Tony immediately regretted his actions as the smaller boy began to cry.

It didn't take long for the bedroom door to open, the three adults staring down at the commotion.

"Timmy, Timothy, it's alright," The woman cooed as she hurried towards the howling child.

The baby angled his body away from hers, arms extended for someone else.

"Gib!"he wailed as the man grabbed him up.

"Timmo, come to grandpa," the man held out his arms. But Tim clung tighter to Gibbs crying even louder still.

"Mama. Wan' Ma-mama…my d-addy."

Tony watched as Boss sat on the floor, cradling the boy to his chest and making comforting noises.

He let out a desperate whimper of his own. Boss looked up at him and Tony broke, scooting towards the pair to drop his head against the big man's shoulder.

"Please, Boss," he begged through his tears, "I don' want to. Please, Boss, Don' make me go!"

Tony felt the big man's arm wrap around his waist and pull him snug against his chest, right alongside Tim. The warm, gentle hand moved to the nape of his neck.

"'S okay. It's alright, kiddo. Don't worry, you're staying right here. No one's going to take you away."

After a while, Tony's eyes began to droop with the weight of the day and he felt himself being carried over to the bed. He blinked drowsily as Gibbs tugged off his black jacket and pulled the warm covers over him.

Boss ran a hand over through Tony's hair. "Everything will look better when you wake up. Can Tim share your bed tonight?"

Beside him, the baby snored softly, tears drying on his own face.

Tony nodded slowly, too tired to do anything else.

"I wish Uncle Jeff was here," he mumbled. "I don't want us to be sad no more."

The big man sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

" I know. Me too, Kiddo. It's alright to close your eyes now, Son. Nobody's moving tonight."

"Okay…" Tony whispered

"I'll be just outside the door if you need me."

He listened as his boss left the room, the voices outside the door getting much quieter.

"Hard on us, Jethro…"

"His wishes…"

"Barely knows us… what's best…"

"Stays with you… visiting…

"…Work something out…"

"… not leaving …any time soon…"

Tony barely grasped the last of the conversation as the sandman worked his magic.

His last thoughts were whether there was football in heaven.

* * *

Parts of this might make you question Gibbs' parenting skills but given the context, I'd say it makes sense for everything not be …together… right now. Anyway, let me know what you think. I also realize this chapter solves NOTHING. In fact, it brings up more questions than it answers. If I can ever get around to answering them D: Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.

I don't really have a trivia question for this chapter so… Happy Weekend!


	20. Rebel

A/N: Because five year olds are awesome. And before anyone asks, they're eating the frozen stuff :)

Enjoy.

Tim: Age 5

Tony: Age 8

Rebel

"You're mean!" He sobbed at his father as he was turned to face the wall. "An'-an' I'm not your friend no more!"

The older man sighed, his patience thin. "I'll be back when you're ready to cooperate."

" S-still not your friend!" Tim shouted after him as he was left alone to sulk.

It wasn't fair! He'd been minding his own business, having a good dinner and then Daddy and Tony started bein' mean to him. And now he was getting punished, and it wasn't even his fault!

Stupid Tony. Stupid table. Stupid Squash!

* * *

*Flashback*

"Timothy, I'm waiting."

Tim swirled the orange mush around with his fork. There was no way that... stuff was going into his mouth.

"I don' wannit," He tried again, glaring up at the older man.

"No veggies, no dessert," Dad replied firmly. "And your time's running out."

Tim looked over his dad's shoulder to kitchen counter and his bowl of chocolate pudding sitting carefully on top.

His older brother watched the exchange with reluctant admiration, his bowl of dessert half-finished.

"Tim." His dad pointed to the plate.

He whined and slumped into his seat, scooping up a forkful of the orange sludge and letting it fall back onto his plate with a soft splat.

Why did Daddy have to make stupid squash on pudding night?

"Looks like throw up," he commented.

"Doncha wan' some d'ssrt, Timmy?" Tony asked around a full mouth, waving his bowl around.

Of course he wanted some, it was chocolate, but…

"I hate squash," he complained again, louder.

"I didn't ask if you liked it, I told you to eat it." Daddy said sternly. "Now."

" But 'm not hungry," Tim pouted, eyeing the remains of his plate with disgust.

"Then you don't want dessert," Boss decided.

"I'm only _hungry_ for _dessert_." Tim whined.

" Mmmm," Tony took this moment to hum as he lapped up another spoonful. "It's so chocolately and delicious. You're missin' out."

Tim scowled.

"It's no fair!" He threw himself back in his chair and pointed at his older sibling. "How come Tony gets ta have some?"

"Cause I'm the good one," his brother replied sweetly.

"Tony, finish your dessert and leave your brother alone," Dad said as he cleared plates off the table. Everyone's except his.

"Tim, you have one minute to clear your plate or you can forget about that pudding. I'm counting."

Tim kicked his nearest table leg when his dad wasn't looking. Turnips, carrots, peas he could all deal with. But this stuff? He leaned his face towards the plate and gave the orange lump a sniff. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

"Mmm mmm hmm, it's like the best dessert ever," Tony started up again. "Scrumdiddlyumptious."

"Stoppit, Tony!" Tim growled, his face getting hot.

His brother looked over at the bowl on the kitchen counter and gave him a sly grin. "And I'm gonna have it all to myself."

"NO!" Tim cried in outrage. "That's my pudding!"

"Not if I eat it first," Tony taunted.

"Daddy, make 'im Stop!" Tim yelled, standing up on his chair. "He's gonna eat my d'ssert!"

"Timmy Tattletale!"

"Hey," Boss barked over the noise. "What did I just say about teasing each other?"

Tony shrugged, and scrapped the bottom of his bowl.

"Not my fault, he's bein' a big baby about vegetables…"

" 'M NOT a _BABY_." Tim howled, face contorted in indignant rage. "An' I'm not eatin' stupid squash!"

"Alright, that's it," Gibbs decided. "Dinner's over. The two of you go upstairs, brush your teeth and get into your pajamas. It'll be bedtime soon."

Tim froze.

That wasn't a whole minute. That was NOT a whole minute.

Tony reluctantly placed his bowl in the sink but Timothy dropped onto his seat, mouth hung open in disbelief.

Dad spotted him still sitting at the table. "Tim, I said get ready for bed."

" But- But- 'm not done eatin' my squash," Tim whined, pointing at his plate.

"You had your chance and you know the rules." Tim watched in horror as his precious dessert was scraped into a tupper wear container. "Kitchen's closed."

Something in him snapped at the sound of the refrigerator door closing.

"That's not fair!" He stamped his foot. "I want my pudding!"

"You're going to bed," Dad held firm.

"No, I'm not!" Tim shrieked, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

Daddy crossed his arms and gave him a look that almost had Tim running for his pajamas.

"You have 'til the count of three to get your butt up those steps or you're going to the corner instead."

Tim glared at his father defiantly. His father stared back at him.

"1…"

It wasn't fair.

"2…"'

It WASN'T FAIR

Tim kicked the table leg as hard as could, making the plate and the squash on top rattle. **"I want pudding!"**

He was still protesting and crying and shouting as he was led from the kitchen to his least favorite spot in the living room.

*End Flashback*

* * *

Tim sniffled. All he wanted was dessert!

After a few shaky breaths he realized was all alone on the first floor. Dad was upstairs with Tony.

Tim gave the wall a good kick. Dad could stay up there for a whole hundred years. He didn't care. Tony too!

Tim wiped his eyes and turned around slowly into the open living room.

When no alarms, whistles or angry parents popped out at him, he took a hesitant step out of the corner. And then a less hesitant one.

He didn't care what Daddy said. He was getting his chocolate pudding.

With that in mind he stomped out the room, sticking his tongue out at the stairs as passed. Walking over to the kitchen table, he snatched up plate that caused all the trouble, dumping the whole thing in the garbage can.

Take that, squash!

Easing the refrigerator door open, his eyes locked immediately on his prize. He grabbed it quickly and kicked the door closed. Stupid fridge!

With no hesitation he peeled the lid off the tupper wear container and dug his hand in.

He didn't need a spoon it was_ his_ pudding!

And it tasted so much better using his hands.

Tim danced as he ate his fourth of fifth fistful, lost in sweet victory, when a voice called from the last step.

"Tim?"

Uh oh.

His heart thudded wildly in his chest as he tried to think of to do next. He yanked on the refrigerator door but his chocolate- coated fingers couldn't get a firm enough grip on the handle. In his struggle, the tupper wear container tumbled out of his arms and landed with a splat face down. Tim tried to dive for the safety of the cabinets but lost traction on the slippery floor and fell onto his bottom.

He looked up to see his father in the doorway, looking ten times angrier than Tim had ever seen him.

Swallowing hard, Tim picked up the up-ended container, holding out what was left of the mess.

" 'M ready to co'perate now, Dad."

* * *

This was inspired by memories of my younger brothers and jello.

This chapter's question is: What prank did McGee and his Navy Brat buddies pull on the commanding officer when he was a kid?


End file.
